REQUESTED: Switches and Sorcery
by ILoveCheetos but IAMTIMELESS
Summary: "The great George Washington-" He slowly lifted his hands. "-killed by five young men, two of whom were his favorite secretary and general." He shook his head. "What a shame they're going to have to kill you for this crime. I really did enjoy having this chat."
1. Switching It Up

This fanfic request was, once again, written by AteIsa

* * *

 **A/N: This was requested by Shiranai Atsune. They asked for a Hamilton Roleswap AU, so, I wrote... This. Which is, I believe, totally not what they're expecting. The plot was really simple at first, until, at some point, it went crazy. As in, I don't understand what happened.**

 **Originally the plan was to write a short 5,000 word story, short and snappy, but in the end, I wrote a 21,996 word story in the span of several weeks.**

 **Anyways, Shiranai Atsune, I really do hope you like it! Just.. Don't expect anything**

* * *

Alexander Hamilton's eyes fluttered open as he awoke to greet the day anew. One of the first things he saw when his vision cleared was a large French flag hanging on the roof above his bed. He frowned in confusion as he groggily sat up. _I don't remember putting that there.._

He yawned, scratching his head. His voice sounded strangely different, for some reason, but he just assumed that it was probably because he was exhausted a lot recently, since the congress constantly wrote to them.

He slid out of the bed and stood the moment his feet touched the ground. As he walked over to the coat rack, he paused. His coat was not there, only Lafayette's, which did not make sense, because he and Lafayette stayed in different tents, which were all the way across from each other.

He looked around the surrounding cots, which were all empty. Hamilton paled. Glancing at the clock, he realized with sudden dismay he slept in. He looked wildly around the tent for his coat, but as his eyes caught his reflection in the old, slightly dirty mirror, he froze.

* * *

Lafayette awoke to the sounds of a sewing machine whirring in the floor below.

 _Wait, a sewing machine?_

Lafayette sat up, the bed not making its usual creak. He rubbed his eyes. A clock nearby told him he had slept in. His insides started to panic, but not because of how late he had woken up. No, it was because of when he scanned the room he was in, for it was now a room, and not the tent he had been sleeping in the night before. _What-?_

He stood up quickly, looking around. A door to the right of the room was slightly ajar, confirming it was not locked. He ran to the window, preparing himself for a tragic sight.

His eyes widened, and he stared. He was now somehow in New York. Did someone kidnap him?

Lafayette shook his head. He was thinking irrationally, because he was not bound in any way, and he had been sleeping in a bed. And, seeing as the door was not in any way barred, he couldn't see how it was possible for him to be being held captive, unless his captor was just incredibly stupid.

He turned back to the window, and his eyebrows furrowed as he saw his reflection. He narrowed his eyes at it to focus his vision, and gasped.

* * *

John Laurens awoke to the sound of someone clicking their tongue nearby. He lifted his head sleepily, and he found that there was the page of a book stuck to his cheek. He pulled his head backward to peel it off and glanced down at the book in confusion. Had he been reading?

The clicking tongue soon turned into an impatient cough as someone behind him attempted to get his attention.

Laurens turned to the person behind him. He jumped. "What the-"

He had been expecting Alexander, or another fellow aide-de-camp to wake him, because he was pretty sure he accidentally slept in, judging from the direction the sun was filtering through the window.

But the man standing behind him was none of them.

The strange man standing behind him had his arms crossed. "Why were you sleeping?"

"Umm... Excuse me?" Laurens frowned, taken aback. _Am I not allowed to?_

"You were supposed to be _studying_ , Mr. Burr, not sleeping. How do you expect me to tutor you if constantly give me such a difficult time?"

Laurens gave him a look. " _Excuse me_ ," He frowned, mockingly adopting the man's pompous manner. "but I don't remember asking for a tu- wait, did you just call me 'Mr. Burr?'" He cocked his head in confusion.

The tutor frowned at him. "Yes, I did."

* * *

Hercules Mulligan woke up to the sound of Laurens yawning nearby.

 _Wait, Laurens? How is he-_

He opened his eyes. He was in a tent. Scratching the back of his neck, he craned his neck, and his eyes caught the timepiece standing on a desk nearby.

Laurens, who was just opening his eyes as well, followed his gaze and gasped at the exact same moment Mulligan did, the realization of them sleeping in dawning on them. They both scrambled to their feet, and when they nearly knocked into each other, they paused, giving similar looks of equal surprise.

"John?"

"Alexander?"

"Huh?" They frowned in unison, sounding very confused indeed.

"I'm not Alexander, John, why would you mistake me for him?" Mulligan asked.

"Because you _are_ him! Or at least, you look like him.." He trailed off. "But I'm not Laurens- I mean John."

"What do you mean? I can see who you are quite clearly. Why am I here?"

The man who claimed not to be Laurens but looked very much like him looked around the tent, as if only just realizing where he was. "Wait, why am _I_ here?!"

"Don't you sleep here?"

"Don't _you?!_ "

The two of them stared at each other in bewilderment for a few moments, exchanging silent expressions of puzzlement.

"Who do you think you are, exactly?" The supposed Laurens asked, his voice calm in a way that Mulligan never heard before.

".. Hercules Mulligan. Do I not look like me?"

"No." Laurens licked his lips nervously. "So, you say I'm Laurens?"

"..Yes?"

"Well, I'm not Laurens." He said flatly. "If you're trying to play a trick on me, Alexander, I don't find it funny."

"I'm _not_ Alexander! Who do you think you are, then?"

"Aaron Burr, of course." He replied, sounding so matter-of-fact that Mulligan started to feel even more puzzled.

They looked at each other. Finally, 'Burr' turned around, looking for something. He turned to Mulligan. "Come with me." He gestured, exiting the tent. Unsure, Mulligan followed. He saw 'Burr' crouching with his face close to the ground. He was staring into a small pond.

Mulligan followed him and bent down into a crouch beside Burr. Why would he be-

Then he glanced at the pond and saw Hamilton's face staring straight back up at him.

At that exact same moment, the both of them yelled in shock, falling backwards onto their bottoms.

"What the heck?!" Mulligan yelled, his voice filled with alarm. "John, what did you do?!"

"I'm not John!"

"OKAY, stop yelling!"

"You're the one yelling!" Burr retorted. He gripped his head. "Am I going crazy?" He muttered under his breath.

Footsteps sounded behind them. Turning, they saw a young solider. He looked concerned.

"Hamilton, General Washington's looking for you." The man said. "Why are you here and not working?"

Mulligan looked at Burr, who looked right back at him. They swallowed, giving each other subtle nods. They didn't know what was going on, but they did know that they had to play along with this so they could get away to properly figure this out.

"Uh.. yeah, I.. Slept in." Mulligan stammered, only now realizing that his voice changed. He really _did_ sound like Hamilton.

Burr and Mulligan stood up, dusting their bottoms off. Burr, after dusting his hands, shoved Mulligan in the direction of a large tent. "I guess you should go, then."

Mulligan nodded, starting his walk there. The man caught him by the shoulder and frowned. "The general's tent is _there,_ not there." He pointed in the opposite direction, looking a little confused.

Burr and Mulligan made similar little Os with their mouths. "Oh- yes, of course." Mulligan coughed, starting to run towards that direction instead.

Burr gave a small, half-hearted wave. "I'll, uh, just be here, then." He slipped back into the tent.

The man, after glancing curiously in the pond for a moment, obviously wondering what they were doing, caught up with Mulligan. He looked worried. "Are you alright?"

"Of course I am." Mulligan replied. He tried not to smirk when he found that he actually did sound like the real Hamilton, especially with the snarky attitude.

When arrived at the tent, Washington was there, waiting for him with his arms crossed. He looked a little angry. "You're late, son."

Mulligan swallowed, noticing how very tall Washington was. He fumbled into a salute. "I apologize, your Excellency." He stammered, standing to attention, if a little shakily. Was Hamilton supposed to sound so nervous? He himself was never even that nervous around the general. It was probably because the general was a LOT taller in Hamilton's point of view, though it could be fear of messing up Hamilton's job, but either way, he needed to relax.

Washington looked at him in suppressed surprise. Mulligan didn't understand the look he was giving him, as if he had done something totally out of character. Did he already notice his nervousness? Or was it something else?

When Washington noticed Mulligan fidgeting under his gaze, smoothed out his features to that of suspicion. "Is there something you need to tell me?" He asked slowly, ".. Son?"

It was not as angry as it was a moment ago, though no less stern.

How to respond? Mulligan brushed aside the thought that the general had called him son twice, because he didn't think it was important. He began to shake his head slowly. "Nooo.."

When Washington raised an eyebrow, Mulligan looked him in the eye, and with a firmer voice, said, "No, sir."

Washington, who still looked a little curious, let it go. He pointed at a desk. "There's a letter from Congress. I presume you can handle that additional piece of work?"

"Yessir." Mulligan replied, trying to swallow his nervousness while sitting himself upon the chair gingerly.

Taking the top letter from the pile in his hands, he slit it open and started to read. _Man, the Congress can be really rude._ Mulligan thought in disgust. He tossed the letter down onto the table. He grabbed the quill. He wasn't used to Hamilton's thinner form, and his movements were somewhat faster than his own, and that caused him to accidentally grab the quill too fast, causing the ink pot to tip over. It rolled off the edge of the desk and, as if in slow motion, smashed, breaking into tiny shards of hardened clay.

Mulligan took in a fast breath as the ink seeped into his - Hamilton's, he corrected himself - clothes. In a few moments time, his arm was covered in ink, and as the ink dripped off the edge of the table, his pants was quickly covered in inky spots as well. He swore angrily as he attempted to save all the blank pieces of parchment and other letters from the incoming puddle of ink, and Washington turned sharply at the noises he was making.

Washington sighed. "Everyone has their bad days." He muttered to himself. Just at that moment, Lafayette came running into the tent, panting. His eyes widened at the sight of Mulligan, who was comically holding up the pieces of parchment as his arms dripped the thick, black mixture.

* * *

 _Just a few minutes ago.._

Hamilton was staring at, not himself, but the face of the one and only Marquis De Lafayette.

"How is this possible? How on earth.." He murmured. His voice, which sounded nothing like his own, was simply dripping with the French accent. His Rs rolled on his tongue in a way he wasn't used to. It all felt wrong.

He gripped his hair in panic. _What in the world is happening?!_

Something caught his eyes. It was a note on the nearby desk, lying innocently, but in a position that suggested the person who placed it there was in a rush. He was not a snoopy sort of person, but when he saw the large, loopy scrawl of Washington's hand forming the word "Lafayette", he felt a little inclined to see what he needed from, well, Lafayette. If Lafayette wasn't here, he might as well try to help him keep his place as general.

He walked over to it. Picking up the note, he unfurled it slowly in his hands. The way his body cooperated with him felt terribly wrong.

Narrowing his eyes to read the untidy scrawl, he read: _Lafayette, I need you to meet me in my tent immediately. We have something important to discuss._

Hamilton felt panic surge through him as he dropped the note and ran to the coat hanger. Slipping on Lafayette's coat, he flew out the tent, passing several other startled soldiers and aide-de-camps on the way. Some of them seemed a little surprised. He couldn't blame them - Lafayette was rarely ever late. He dashed across the field. His stride was much longer, and he stifled a laugh. When he got there, he noted that the time he got there was a lot faster than he would normally have. Hurrying into the tent, panting on his knees, he saw, to his complete shock, himself, comically holding up some blank pieces of parchment and letters as dark ink continued to seep across the desk, staining it for sure.

Washington turned and gave a relieved smile at him. Hamilton, a little confused at that, stood and saluted, giving a nervous smile back. He didn't know if that was normal reaction to his arrival for the general, but he decided he should just play along.

"I-I'm so sorry that I'm late, sir." Hamilton swallowed. He had to force himself to speak slower, because when he spoke normally, he could feel himself about to stumble over his words. Lafayette's accent didn't seem to want to cooperate with him, and Hamilton didn't know how to deal with it.

As the General came closer, Hamilton had to force himself to hide his smirk as he found that, now that he was in Lafayette's body, he was no longer so abnormally short. It felt good. At least being in this body had a good side. (5'7 was actually not that bad, but Hamilton, being the unsatisfied man he was, did not like it).

Washington held out his hand, and after a heartbeat of a hesitation, Hamilton grasped his wrist. Was this a normal greeting?

Washington smiled and patted him on the shoulder, then brought him to a table laden with—Hamilton's heart quickened—charts and papers; battle plans.

Hamilton glanced at the man at his desk, the imposter who _clearly_ didn't know how to operate a quill. He had to find out who had taken the body that was rightfully his. But first, he had to keep his friend's job.

Hamilton couldn't help it. He grinned at the prospect of getting to be a general of Lafayette's status. But..

His stomach clenched in worry as Washington continued to talk to him about some tactics. If he was in Lafayette's body, where was Lafayette himself?

* * *

Lafayette wasn't sure if he was seeing properly. The reflection that was supposed to be his was, somehow, not. It was Mulligan's, to be precise, but how in the world was he occupying Mulligan's body?

Lafayette pulled himself away from the window. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get help, but who to ask? He pulled on Mulligan's coat as he began to muse to himself the possible people he could trust to help, but as he ran down the stairs, he heard men speaking with a thick, British accent:

"So where _is_ your apprentice? He promised us that our trousers would be fixed by today."

Watching from the top of the stairs, Lafayette, who froze at the sound of their voices, saw a man whom he could only assume was the tailor Mulligan worked under, reply, "I don't know, but I'll tell him you need him the moment I-"

Lafayette, who recovered quickly, remembered. Mulligan, though a tailor's apprentice, also doubled as a _spy_. He also knew that if he continued to stand there when the men were clearly looking for Mulligan, his mentor could lose his job, or worse, so he ran down the flight of the stairs, his unnaturally heavy feet thumping loudly with each step. The men turned at the unintended noise, and the two British soldiers who were there broke into grins at the sight of him.

"Mulligan!" They cried. "Haven't been sleeping in, have you?"

Lafayette tried not to recoil as he shook their hands. He felt disgusted. How could Mulligan put up with pretending to be the friend of these Redcoats? It was revolting, but Lafayette, determined now to keep his friend safe, managed a smile in return as he laughed. "Of course not."

He bit down on his tongue and tried not to panic as he found that his voice, much deeper now, did not sound in any way French. His accent was gone. His Rs didn't roll the way he was used to, and he felt, in a sense, naked without it. As the Redcoats entered the building, Lafayette couldn't help but touch his tongue with his fingers and shake it sadly.

The Redcoats were looking around the piles of clothing, as if they were looking for something. They turned to Lafayette, who immediately took his fingers out of his mouth and stuck it into his pocket as one of the men inquired, "So, where are they?"

Seeing the piles of clothes on top of a table, and another pile on another table nearby, and more in shelves and baskets, he gulped nervously. He glanced at the tailor, who was watching him with some concern. Lafayette mouthed at him, "I forgot where I put it." And the tailor winced.

The men, who were no fools, saw this. Narrowing their eyes, one snapped, "What are you whispering?"

Lafayette turned sharply back at him. His hand in his pocket clenched, but he knew he had to keep his cool if he wanted to get out of here so he could find help. He grimaced. "I.. Forgot where I put it."

The Redcoats frowned at him.

" _Je m'excuse_ , I mean-" He stammered when they rose their eyebrows in confusion.

It was a habit for him to speak in French when he was nervous, but in Mulligan's tongue, it almost sounded ridiculous. He swallowed, hurrying to correct his mistake. "I mean, I'm sorry."

The Redcoats groaned at him. "Find it." They demanded. Poor, confused Lafayette, was forced to obey.

* * *

Laurens was puzzled. Why would this man mistake him for Burr? He looked nothing like him, and he-

He was cut out of his thoughts as the tutor yelled, "Are you even listening to me?!"

Laurens couldn't help but recoil in disgust as flecks of spit hit his face. _My gosh, how does Burr put up with this man?_ Laurens wiped his face with his hand angrily. "Of course I was." He snapped.

The tutor recoiled. "You watch your tongue." He said, before announcing. "Well then, since you seem to have lacked in your studies, I'm not letting you go to bed until you finish reading those." He pointed at the three, thick volumes of law books on the table that Burr must have fallen asleep studying. The one that Laurens had awoken on was, thankfully, halfway through. That wouldn't be too hard, now would it?

Laurens nodded, muttering, "It's already morning, though." Which made the tutor sniff, then leave the room, slamming the door behind him.

Laurens rolled his eyes at the ceiling.

He stood up and stretched, rolling his sore neck. The first thing he did was look around the room for anything he could look at his reflection with. He didn't have to look long, because he soon found a basin of water, which he presumed was meant for washing.

As he peered into it, he gasped, accidentally tipping it over and splashing all it's contents all over him as he stumbled backwards. _What- how do I look like Burr?!_

He heard the repugnant tutor inquiring outside the door. "What happened?"

"Nothing!" Laurens lied. He shook his wet clothing with distaste, then hurried to the nearest cabinet. Opening the doors, he grabbed a new tunic and pair of trousers and changed into them quickly. The thing that he really knew he needed to do was get help, and perhaps find Burr while he's at it. Maybe he'd know what was going on.

Slipping on Burr's coat, he opened the door.

He had barely made it out of the doorframe before the tutor started clicking his tongue from a couch outside. "Where does a young man like you," He said a little too sweetly, "Want to go on a _weekday_ like this?"

Laurens tried not to scowl at him with distaste, instead trying to adopt the calm, cool and neutral expression Burr always wore. "Out." He replied flatly. The door to the outside world was so near. He took several steps forward before the tutor stood. The tutor asked, "Have you finished reading the books?"

Laurens nodded. It seemed the tutor could see through the lie, though, because he immediately exclaimed, "Oh, jolly good. So what is the title of the essay on the last page of 'Law and Loopholes'?"

Laurens hesitated. He tried to make guess. "'Loopholes in Law'?" He asked, trying not to sound sarcastic.

The tutor frowned, obviously put out. "Correct." He muttered. Laurens almost pumped his fist in triumph, but decided to turn and attempt to go out the door again, but the tutor stopped him with another question.

"If that was so easy for you, what was the name of chapter thirty-five in 'Lawyers and All Essential Laws To The Law'?"

Laurens stopped. How was he supposed to remember _that?_ was Burr himself really expected to remember that? That was just utter nonsense!

"I can see your hesitation. You don't remember, do you?"

"Why would I remember a _chapter name?_ " Laurens burst in annoyance.

The tutor merely raised an eyebrow. "It seems you're starting to have a little bit of an anger management issue." He sighed, shaking his head. "You don't normally get so annoyed with anything."

"Hamilton, I do." Laurens muttered to himself. He tried not to laugh at his own joke.

"Who? Who is Hamilton?"

"Just some guy in the army." Laurens answered, trying to get to the door without him realizing it.

"Is this the man who you're going to meet with?" The tutor inquired.

Laurens gave a lying nod. "Yes. And we have something _very important_ to discuss. I don't want to keep him waiting, so I can come back and study again."

He was trying desperately not to sound sarcastic. The tutor, however, looked almost inclined to just let him go, until he started to smirk at himself in such a way that Laurens was beginning to feel worried.

"Maybe I shouldn't let you go. If this Hamilton person can cause you to lose your temper, then I'm not sure you should be spending much time with him," The tutor said, his voice sounding concerned, but his face looking.. Cheeky?

"I'll be fine."

Laurens reached for the doorknob again, and this time, the tutor spoke in a soft voice.

"Not trying to sneak some plans to the American army, now are you?" He asked silently.

Laurens froze. He stared at the tutor for a heartbeat of a second and asked, "You're.. You're a loyalist?"

The tutor hesitated, then grinned evily at him. "You could say that, although, a loyalist with some interesting abilities would be _much_ more accurate."

Laurens, even though he had no idea what those abilities could be, still felt his blood run cold as he paled magnificently.

The tutor sighed. "Oh, Burr," He said in a tone of mock-pity. "I thought you were smarter than that. "

Laurens shook his head and ran for the door, but before he could make it, the tutor was there. He knocked Laurens down, hard.

"Aw, come on, you don't want to leave the party just yet, do you?" He cackled at him. "Now," He stooped down, grabbing Laurens' wrist and forcing it to the ground and kneeling onto his legs so as to prevent him from running. "I'll show you what exactly happens to people who don't take the correct side in a war." He pressed down onto Laurens' leg harder, causing him to cry out.

"What are you going to do to me?" Laurens seethed through his teeth. He was desperately trying to shove the tutor off of him, but he was too strong.

"Oh, many things, but most importantly would be turning you - and your friends - against George Washington and, of course, America."


	2. Dark Intentions

Burr was pacing the interior of the tent. He _knew_ he had something to tell the General, but _w_ _hat?_ He knew that he's been looking for an opportunity to get out of his house for a while, but he just couldn't place _why._

He was biting his finger desperately, murmuring under his breath. Just as he angrily smacked the side of his head with his palm, another man came into the tent. He frowned at him. "Is something the matter, Laurens?" He asked as he began rifling through some stuff in a satchel that was lying on a nearby cot.

Burr looked around him, confused, then took his finger out of his mouth and pointed it at himself. "Oh. Me. Yeah, I'm fine."

The man, who looked a little bewildered, scratched his head. "Are you sure? You really don't look like you are."

"Well, I am." Burr said in a flat tone.

The man shrugged, then lifted the flap so he could leave the tent. He paused. "Oh, wait, the general asked me to ask the other aides if they have any spare ink. Do you?"

Burr glanced at a desk, where three ink pots were sitting. "Yes," He answered.

"Bring it to the general's tent. Hamilton spilled all the ink."

Burr felt small pleasure at that, before he remembered it was Mulligan, not Hamilton. "Why can't you do it, though?" He frowned, taking one of the ink pots from the desk.

"I'm.. already doing something." The man replied, sounding hesitant. Burr raised an eyebrow.

"I just- ugh. Washington's been really stressed lately. Why would I want to go to him when he already got annoyed with me for _accidentally_ spilling the bucket of water I was bringing to my horse?"

Burr sighed. "Alright, alright, I'm going."

Taking the ink pot tightly in his hands, he took off at a brisk trot towards the tent the young soldier had indicated to earlier.

The first thing he saw once he got there was Hamilton, who was wiping at a desk with an old cloth. The desk now had a dark stain across it, which was where the ink spilled, Burr guessed.

Washington turned as he entered, and Burr immediately saluted, and with a nod, Washington told him, "As you were."

After a moment, Burr realized that Lafayette was also in the room. He gave a curt nod in his direction, then turned back to Washington. "You asked for some ink, sir?" He held the pot up for him to see.

"Ah, yes, thank you, Laurens." Washington exhaled.

Burr felt he was being a little stoic. He forced a smirk on, then hurried to Mulligan before he could see their reactions.

He handed the ink pot to Mulligan immediately, then whispered, "How are you holding up?"

"Terribly," He replied in a whisper as well, grimacing.

Burr sighed. "We'll find a way out of this."

Lafayette was suddenly behind them. "Out of what?" He asked, speaking a little slower than usual.

Burr and Mulligan jumped. "Oh, nothing." Mulligan stammered.

Lafayette narrowed his eyes at him. He looked quite suspicious. "Is that so? Tell me, then," He began, licking his lips, like he was uncomfortable with them. "Don't you feel a little, I don't know, different?"

Mulligan, who paled the slightest bit, shook his head immediately. Burr shook his head, too, as Lafayette gave him a glance.

"You're sure about that?"

They nodded vigorously.

"So," Lafayette placed both of his palms onto the table and stared Mulligan in the eye. "You _don't_ feel like—this will probably sound strange—but like a completely different person?"

Burr and Mulligan froze, giving each other a quick, alarmed sideways glance.

"Wait... How-? I mean, uh," Mulligan stammered nervously. He glanced at Burr, then back at Lafayette. He narrowed his eyes. "You aren't Lafayette, are you?"

Lafayette shook his head. "And I simply do not believe you're Hamilton. I'd never spill the ink like you did." He rolled his eyes. "Really quite embarrassing."

Burr and Mulligan blinked, taking in what he just said.

" _H_ _amilton?!_ " They yelped in silent shock.

Lafayette—Hamilton, Burr corrected himself—sighed in relief. "Finally."

"But how?" Burr asked in surprise.

Lafayette— _Hamilton_ —shook his head, giving a wary glance at the general, "I don't know, but I need to know, who are you two really?"

"Hercules Mulligan,"

"Aaron Burr,"

Lafayette's— _HAMILTON'S_ —eyes widened. Before he could say anything more, however, Washington called out, "Is there a problem?"

"No, sir." They replied immediately, turning to him sharply.

Washington looked a little confused. "Alright, then," He murmured. "Lafayette, we need to finish the plans." He continued, waving him over.

Hamilton nodded nervously, glancing again at the other two. "Yes, sir." Then whispered, "We'll figure this out later." And hurried away.

Washington turned to Burr with his eyebrow raised. "Do you still have a reason to be here, Laurens?"

"No, sir." Burr muttered, abashed, then hurried to the exit.

Just as he stepped his foot outside the flap, he stopped. He felt a memory hit him in the head. He remembered what he had to tell Washington.

"Actually, sir," Burr called, turning back inside. "I do."

"What is it?" Washington asked, sounding tired.

Burr swallowed. "I, um, recently got a letter from Aaron Burr."

As the general raised an eyebrow, Burr continued, "He was worried. He told me that he was afraid his tutor was a loyalist." He swallowed again. "Apparently, he's been trying to keep him cooped up in his studies a lot more than normal, and he seemed to be keeping a constant watch on him. He asked me to inform you immediately."

Washington's eyes had widened. "Alright, then." He said. "Hamilton?"

Hamilton opened his mouth to respond, then immediately shut it closed again. Mulligan looked around at them for a moment before remembering. "Yes, sir?" He spoke hurriedly.

"I need you to write a letter to Mulligan. We can have him check on Burr and see the situation, then have him come here for his report."

"Yes, sir." Mulligan replied, trying not to laugh while he took out the quill, beginning to write immediately.

"Tell him not to do anything. It's important we do this as quietly as possible. Just in and out." Washington added, "We don't want the loyalist making any rash decisions."

"Yes, sir." Mulligan said again, writing rapidly.

"Good." Washington looked to Burr. "Thank you for informing me, Laurens, you may be excused. I'll tell you if I need you."

Burr nodded, then turned on his heel and left the tent.

* * *

Lafayette had no idea where Mulligan could have placed the pants. He could sense the Redcoats we getting quite impatient, while the tailor was getting nervous.

Lafayette was frantically looking through the many piles of clothes in hopes of finding it, but the thing was he didn't even know how they looked. He looked nervously at the Redcoats. "I'm sorry." He muttered for the fifteenth time.

The Redcoats didn't even reply this time. They just kept looking at a gown that was lying on the table Lafayette was searching now. He had discarded it to the side just a moment ago, and the Redcoats seemed to have taken some interest in it.

"Is this for sale?" One of the men asked curiously, pointing at it.

Lafayette murmured, "Uhh," and glanced his mentor, who nodded at the Redcoats for him.

One of the men looked at his cohort. "Do you think mum will like it?"

"I think?" His brother scrunched up his eyebrows. "I mean, it looks like something she'd like." He stopped scrunching up his eyes. "And I think she'd look pretty in it."

"Yeah, I think so too." His brother grinned, then he leaned into his brother's ear. "Although she'd look pretty in anything."

His brother smiled.

Lafayette, who heard the whole thing, couldn't help but feel surprised. Sure, he was aware that all men had mothers, but the fact that they were talking so openly about her, and unashamedly at that, was quite sweet.

The brother picked up the gown and held it up. "It looks like it would fit," He murmured, then turned to Lafayette. "We'll excuse you for losing our trousers," He said, handing the dress to him. "In exchange for this dress. As we already payed for the fixing of our pants, let's just say that we bought this." He nodded at the dress in Lafayette's hands. Lafayette nodded quickly, hurrying to the counter. Grabbing a small sack, he folded the dress and placed it inside just as the other man added, "Oh, but if you find our trousers, we can just add the payment when you deliver it."

Lafayette tried to hide his snort of disbelief. Honestly, why would anyone trust them? He handed the sack to one of the men, who smiled at him. "Thank you," They bid in farewell, then left the shop.

The mentor sighed. "That was quite close." He shook his head, then sat himself down at the counter and began writing something down on a catalogue.

Lafayette stood their awkwardly for a moment. _What am I supposed to do now?_

The mentor looked up at him, his eyebrow raised expectantly. "Are you going to look for the trousers, or not?"

Lafayette sighed, but did what he was told.

He went to a drawer he hadn't looked in and found, to his surprise, two pairs of trousers, one of which had a hole on the knee. He held it up and grimaced. _So it was here this whole time._

At the sound of his groan, the mentor looked up again, then gave a disapproving click of his tongue, which sounded a little amused, if truth be told. "You really seem to be having a bit of a day, don't you?"

Lafayette just sighed loudly once again as he sat down at a table to sew up the hole.

Until he remembered he had no idea how to sew.

Thankfully, the other pants was already fixed, so he really didn't have to do that much anymore except find out how to sew _this_ pants' hole closed, then he could have it brought to those Redcoats.

Lafayette looked around for the sewing machine he had heard earlier, but it was not here. Turning to the counter where the mentor was sitting at, Lafayette's face fell. The mentor was just beside it, and it was obvious that he was about to use it. As the hum of the machine began, Lafayette picked up a needle and frowned at it skeptically. He really had no idea how to sew. He always asked someone else to do it for him, because he never bothered to learn, because he didn't think it was necessary to, anyway, especially when he had enough money to simply buy the clothes he needed or to pay someone to have them fixed.

He took a piece of thread. The only thing he knew was you had to put the thread through the eye of the needle. He looked at the needle. Where was the eye? It just looked sharp and pointy. He flipped the needle around. The eye of the needle came into view immediately.

Lafayette shook his head at himself, then slowly attempted to put the thread in. It took several frustrating tries, but soon he was able to slip it in. He grinned triumphantly, until the thread slipped out of the needle again, and he was back where he started.

Lafayette groaned and let his head drop onto the table. Where was Mulligan when you needed him?

Just then, a postman was knocking on the doorframe of the open door. "Excuse me?" He called out.

The mentor looked up from his work. "Yes? What do you need?"

"I have a letter for Hercules Mulligan." He waved the envelope in the air, and Lafayette stood up to aquire it. "It's from the General," The postman continued silently, "He said it's urgent."

Lafayette took the letter. "Thank you." He said, and the postman nodded at him, then hurried away.

Lafayette sat at Mulligan's work table again and slit the letter open. Slowly, he took the letter out. His eyes widened as he read its contents, but what confused him the most right now was the fact that the handwriting looked different. It was not Washington's, and it was not Hamilton's. In fact, he didn't know who's handwriting this was at all, but he pushed that thought aside. He needed to get to Burr's house, and fast.

With some help from the mentor, Lafayette had a reason to go there, besides the letter, of course. Taking the satchel full of clothes Burr had ordered a day ago, Lafayette hurried through the familiar streets of New York to where he knew Burr lived.

When he reached the house, he took a deep breath, staring at the door nervously. He hoped he wasn't too late. Steeling himself, he raised his fist and rapped his fist sharply on the door.

* * *

Laurens and the tutor looked up from the ground as there was a sharp, fast knock on the door.

The tutor glared at Laurens, then let him go. He pulled him to his feet as the knocking grew louder, and more urgent. The tutor whispered, "Get rid of him. If you tell whoever that is about any of this, I will have them killed."

Laurens swallowed and stared nervously at the door as the tutor slipped into another room.

Laurens waited for a moment. Maybe whoever that was would go away. But as if the universe simply just _wanted_ to oppose his wishes, the knocking came again.

Laurens clutched his non-existent hair with one hand and sighed through his nose, then opened the door.

Standing there was Mulligan, who had just raised his fist for another knock, and had narrowly missed hitting Laurens in the face.

"Hercules." Laurens announced, trying to sound bored. He needed to get Mulligan away. Anything could happen if he stayed too long.

Mulligan nodded at him and held up a bag. "These are the clothes you ordered," He glanced at the bag. "You _did_ order them, right?"

Laurens, who had his arms crossed, frowned. That didn't sound like Mulligan at all, but he pushed that aside. He had no idea if Burr ordered clothes, but he was just going to pretend he did for the sake of the act.

He nodded curtly and, opening Mulligan's satchel, hurriedly took out the bunches of clothes and, holding them under his arm, asked, "How much do I owe you?"

"Uhh," Mulligan grimaced, looking inside his satchel again. "I can't remember." He muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He scrunched his eyes closed hard, Laurens frowning at him impatiently. If he didn't leave soon, the tutor might lose _his_ patience, and only God knows what could happen to Mulligan if that were to occur.

Laurens, who found a coin pouch sitting on the nearby table, shoved it abruptly into Mulligan's surprised hands as he groaned, "Just take the money and go. I have a lot of studying to do."

Mulligan looked a little unsure, but after a moment shrugged and slid it into his satchel. He frowned at Laurens. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I am." Laurens said, sounding irritated. He had felt like his Burr-act was on point, but maybe it wasn't too convincing.

Then, like that swift fly that flew into the house, an idea hit him.

"I'm just... Not feeling like myself today." Laurens added, to a slight raise of the eyebrows of Mulligan. Laurens gave him a pointed look for a moment, before Mulligan's eyes widened in return. He coughed. "Me, too, actually." He grimaced. "I've been forgetting a lot of things as well."

"Same here." Laurens agreed. Was it possible Mulligan wasn't who he seemed to be? He peered into his eyes. Peeking out of them didn't look like Mulligan at all. There was something about them that looked strangely like..

Laurens bit down on his tongue hard as he almost cried, "Lafayette?!" into the dull, afternoon air. He gave him a warning look, which Lafayette had no trouble interpreting.

"Anyway," Lafayette said, already walking backwards. "I have to go. A lot of stuff to, um, sew."

"Yeah," Laurens swallowed, "Me, too. I mean, study, not sew. My tutor is being a pain." He rolled his eyes.

Lafayette blinked. He suddenly looked like he was on high alert. "Your tutor?" He repeated.

"Yes. He's been bugging me to read my law books for hours on end even when I was already reading them. As irritating as a Redcoat, if you ask me."

Even if that term was common around America recently, it was also was a very risky one indeed. Although the tutor was, in fact, _not_ a Redcoat, that was the closest thing to what he really was.

Lafayette, who was looking into the house, gave Laurens a sigh. "That sounds irritating."

"It really is."

Lafayette gave him a forced look of pity. "Oh, well. Would you like to meet up with me and perhaps the others in the bar later for a drink?"

Laurens knew what Lafayette was really asking. He wanted to know if he could leave the house at all. Laurens shook his head sadly, leaning against the doorframe. "My tutor's a strict man."

Lafayette frowned in a fake pout of disappointment. "Oh, alright." He took a step backwards. "I guess you should get back to studying again. Goodbye, Burr."

"Goodbye, Hercules." Laurens waved.

Lafayette gave him a worried look as he walked away, and Laurens just nodded at him.

Closing the door, Laurens leaned on it in exasperation and called out, "I don't think he suspected anything."

"Good." The tutor replied immediately, stepping out of his hiding place. "Because I wouldn't want him to see this."

"See what-" Laurens was cut of sharply as he was swiftly smacked on the side of his head, and he fell forward, unconscious.

* * *

Mulligan was starting to get bored with Washington's and Hamilton's planning. Sure, it felt good to do something besides sewing and spying, but he'd rather do those again if it meant getting back into his own body.

Just as he thought this, Laurens—Burr, Mulligan corrected himself—came running into the tent, a moment later followed by... Mulligan. He looked up sharply at their faces of alarm.

The real Hamilton looked up as well as Washington turned to them. "What is it?"

"It's true." The imposter Mulligan breathed. "There really is a loyalist in there. Burr's being held captive by him. I highly suspect something more is up."

"He told you all this?" Washington asked.

"Uh, no, not exactly." Mulligan frowned. "But he couldn't say that all straight out, for fear of his tutor hearing it."

Washington nodded in understanding.

Hamilton was looking closely at the newcomer as well. He definitely looked like Mulligan, but the way he moved and talked was all wrong. He looked closer at him, and as that Mulligan finally took notice, his eyes widened. "How-"

Hamilton spoke over him immediately, "Your Excellency," He began. "I think I should go to him and help him, and maybe catch the loyalist and see what he knows."

Washington furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about it. "Alone?" He asked.

Hamilton looked at Mulligan, who looked like him, then glanced at the man who looked like Mulligan, then turned to Burr, who looked like Laurens. "No." He made up his mind. "I could bring them. We could just be visiting him."

Mulligan and the other two began to nod.

Washington looked a little worried. "I'm a little unsure about this." He muttered.

"We'll be fine. Just in and out." He was already beginning to take a step to leave the tent, and Mulligan was slowly raising himself from the chair. "We'll come back immediately." Hamilton promised as Burr and the other Mulligan took small steps toward the exit flap.

Washington was no fool. He noticed everyone trying to leave. He sighed. "Alright."

The others bit back their grins of triumph, and Washington added, "But if you can't figure anything out, and if you can't get him out, come right back, _immediately_."

"Yes, sir." They all simultaneously saluted, then they ran out.

The four walker together in silence for a moment as they walked to their horses. Mulligan was glaring at the man who took his body _. How dare he?_ Hamilton was glancing suspiciously towards the man as well. In turn, the man who looked like Mulligan was watching Hamilton with a hint of distrust.

As they finally reached the horses, Burr, who was watching their exchange with slight irritation, stopped and faced them all. "Just tell each other who you really are already." He groaned.

The imposter Mulligan raised an eyebrow, and Burr added, "Oh, yes, and I'm not Laurens."

"Unfortunately." Hamilton muttered, and Mulligan snickered.

"I'm Aaron Burr." He finished, giving them a look.

The not-Mulligan looked a little surprised.

Hamilton sighed, throwing up his arms, "Alexander Hamilton."

Not-Mulligan's eyes widened, and widened even more as Mulligan said, "Hercules Mulligan."

They looked at him, expectant. Not-Mulligan sighed in relief, "So I'm not alone. It's me, Lafayette."

Hamilton sighed in relief. "Finally, we found you."

"Wait," Lafayette turned to Burr. "but if you're not Laurens, then that means.." He gasped. "Oh, no. It's _Laurens_ who's stuck with the loyalist."

Mulligan turned to Hamilton to see him blanch. He himself suddenly felt a lot more panicky then he had a moment ago. Hamilton ran to his horse and clambered on immediately, and the others followed.

Burr frowned. "So if it's me, you wouldn't hurry as much, but if it's Laurens, you will?"

Mulligan heard Hamilton laugh as the four of them urged their horses forward, riding off to New York.

* * *

As the four of them dismounted their horses and tied them to the fence of Burr's house, Hamilton felt panic clench inside of him. The house was eerily silent as the four of them eyed it with apprehension.

After a few moments, Hamilton stepped forward and knocked. The eerie silence stretched on, causing the four to glance at each other wearily. Suddenly, there was a creak, and the four turned sharply at the door and saw it had swung open, but there was no one there. A weird force was emanating from inside the house, and they all shuddered.

"I don't like this.." Mulligan muttered.

"You can feel it too, can't you?" Lafayette murmured, looking inside the house again.

Hamilton shuddered again. "Did you feel this last time you were here?" He asked, turning to Burr and Lafayette questioningly.

They shook their heads nervously.

The feeling, which had been continuing to hover around them, suddenly became stronger. They all suddenly felt an unnatural urge to go inside.

"It feels like.. Dark magic." Burr breathed.

"Magic?" The three repeated, sounding uncertain.

"Don't you think so?"

The three others stood still for a moment, then slowly, they nodded.

"Maybe we should go." Mulligan grimaced, staring inside again.

"But we can't just leave Laurens in there!" Hamilton cried.

They fell silent. Everyone was feeling the very same thing as every instinct they had in their body yelled at them. _No!_ It was yelling. _Stay away!_

Hamilton shook his head and set his will. He took a step inside the house.

The other three glanced at each other anxiously, unsure, then followed him in.

The door slammed closed the moment they were fully inside, and Mulligan and Burr, who were closest, immediately attempted to pull it open.

"We're trapped!" Mulligan gasped. He pounded his fist on it furiously.

" _Cet endroit est hanté!_ " Lafayette cried, sounding genuinely terrified.

"It's _not_ haunted, Lafayette." Hamilton rolled his eyes at his friend. "It was probably just the wind."

When Lafayette turned away from him with a look of nervousness, Hamilton added under his breath, "At least, I hope so."

The four stuck together wordlessly as they peered into several rooms, opening and closing all the doors silently. When they reached the door at the end of the hallway, however, they found that this knob refused to turn.

Hamilton's eyes widened as he watched Mulligan attempt to turn it several times. "It's locked."

"Stand back," Hamilton waved him out of the way. He consented, and Hamilton, grinning a little in eagerness, lifted his leg and slammed his foot at the door. It splintered a little on its hinges, and he did it again. The door crashed to the floor, narrowly missing-

"Laurens!" Everyone yelled in alarm as they saw their friend, sitting unconscious, straight up in a chair.

They rushed inside. As Hamilton ran to Laurens' side, he saw Mulligan fall forward. Seconds later, Lafayette and Burr followed his example, seemingly knocked out. Hamilton stood up straight in alarm, but before he could do anything, he felt something crash roughly at the back of his neck, and he slumped forward, out cold.

* * *

Laurens groaned, opening his extremely heavy eyelids. He raised his head, and it felt a little sore, but any thoughts about his neck sped out of his head as he realized that Lafayette, Mulligan, Hamilton, and... Someone that looked like him were sitting on the other chairs beside him. There was an oil lamp in the middle of them, illuminating the room and giving it an eery feel. Turning back to his friends, he saw they were sitting rigidly and stiffly in their respective chairs except for their necks, which were slumped forward. They were unconscious, and he instantly remembered the tutor.

"Guys!" Laurens yelled in alarm.

The four beside him snorted awake, jerking their heads upwards the moment their eyes fluttered opened.

Hamilton could see his friends beside him, and remembering what happened, tried to stand up.

 _Tried_ to. His body didn't move at the command. Alarmed, Hamilton looked down. He was not bound at all, but he couldn't move, nonetheless. He tried to lift his legs, but they were anchored to the floor, as if they were made out of stone. He could not feel them, nor make them do anything he demanded them to. He glanced at his hands, which were sitting on his lap. He attempted to wriggle his fingers, but even _they_ refused to comply to his wishes. He felt panic rise inside of him, and he turned to the others and saw them struggling desperately to move their motionless bodies as well, their necks and heads the only things mobile.

"Why. Can't. I. MOVE!?" Hamilton roared, furious.

"It's some sort of paralysis!" Burr groaned.

Everyone was becoming frantic as they struggled to move anything. Anything at all.

After a few moments, they stopped, slumping their heads backwards in pain.

Laurens turned to the man who looked like how he was supposed to. "Who are you, exactly?" He panted

He sighed. "Aaron Burr. We know it's you, John, so you don't need to hide it."

Laurens felt relieved, which turned to confusion. "But.. Why are we in different bodies?"

"We're ALL in different bodies." A man that looked like Hamilton said. "I'm not Alexander, if that's what you're thinking."

Laurens' eyes widened in surprise as everyone introduced themselves as who they really were. After a moment of more silence, Laurens asked, "But why? Why did whoever do this.. Do this to us?"

"I don't know."

"I do."

All five looked up sharply as a new man came into view of the firelight, though he wasn't so new to Laurens and Burr.

"You!" They growled simultaneously.

The tutor grinned. "Thank you Hamilton, Lafayette, and Mulligan. You fell right into my trap." He turned to Burr (The actual Burr, not Laurens). "And it's nice to see you again, Burr."

Laurens narrowed his eyes. "So you knew who I was the entire time?"

"Of course." Chuckled the tutor, patting Laurens' cheek, much to his annoyance. "I'm not as innocent and dumb as you five."

"Excuse me?" Hamilton called out at him, taken aback.

"Ah, Hamilton." The tutor turned to him with a wide smirk. "Enjoying Lafayette's height, I presume?"

Hamilton blinked. "Well, of course, but- yeah- I- Stop trying to change the subject!" He snapped.

Lafayette rolled his eyes at the sky as he murmered, " _Mon Dieu, aide-moi_."

"Ooh, _bonjour_ , Gilbert Du Motier." The tutor grinned, turning to Lafayette, who winced at the use of his real name by a stranger. " _C'est bon de te voir_." The tutor spoke fluently.

"Alright, alright, smarty pants, you know who we really are. Amazing show." Mulligan snarled sarcastically. "But you're a real heckin' coward to just keep us paralyzed here." Then he added under his breath, "However you're doing it."

The tutor turned to him and gave him another smirk. "Hercules Mulligan." He went over to him. "That untrustworthy man who pretends to be 'friends' with the British. In short, a Liar, just like me. Although probably not _just_ like me, seeing as I'd never get caught, unlike you."

Mulligan flushed furiously.

"So, I finally have the whole gang." The tutor continued, turning away and clapping his hands eagerly. "You, my children," He spun on his heel to face then again, "Are a vital part of my master plan to take Washington down in one fell swoop."

"Hah, like we'd ever help you." Hamilton laughed.

"Oh, but I think you will." The tutor remarked with his eyebrows raised. He snapped his fingers, and Hamilton suddenly screamed in pain, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"What are you DOING TO HIM?!" Laurens screamed, amidst the cries of, "HAMILTON!"

The tutor, looking amused, snapped his fingers again, and Hamilton stopped screaming, panting desperately as he glared at the tutor with newfound hatred and.. Fear.

Burr was staring at the tutor with pure and utter shock. "I was right." He breathed. "It _is_ dark magic." He stared at his tutor straight in the eye with burning intensity. "You've been practicing _sorcery!_ "

The tutor chuckled, patting him on the head. "It took you long enough."

"Practicing sorcery is a sin against God," Burr scowled. "It's a sin against reality itself!"

The tutor raised an eyebrow. Then he suddenly cracked up and burst out laughing, much to the bewilderment and annoyance of the five.

"I'm sorry," The tutor giggled, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "I just can't take you seriously when you're like this." He gestured at them and giggled again.

"But you're the one that-" Lafayette began infuriatedly.

"Which is why I'm going to put you back." The tutor cut him off with a wave.

Laurens glanced at the others skeptically, when he suddenly felt a throbbing, violent pain in his head, as if his brain—his _soul_ —was being forced out of his current body. The pain was indescribably unbearable, and the five of them would have screamed if they could, but it was simply not possible.

The other four all felt the same as Laurens as the five of their heads were forced to look up by some terrible yet invisible force. Their eyes glowed white as they saw their spirits leave through their mouths, and suddenly, they felt themselves sucked strongly. The next thing they knew, they blacked out.

When they opened their eyes again, they were back into their own respective bodies. Laurens shook his head groggily, then noticed the tutor watching them. Laurens' face contorted itself into a vicious scowl. "What did you do that for?!"

The tutor raised an eyebrow. "You should be thanking me, Laurens, not contradicting me."

"He _meant_ ," Hamilton groaned irritatedly, opening his eyes and rolling his neck. "Why did you switch our bodies in the first place? Especially if you were going to put us back?"

The tutor furrowed his eyebrows. "I thought it would have been obvious, Hamilton, but since your little brains still haven't caught on yet, I guess I'll have to explain."

He leaned forward on his chair (Which he must gave gotten while they were unconscious again) and eyed the five. "I was on the side of the Americans, like you five. Blind, hopeful, and dumb, but much too weak to join in as a soldier. I decided to take up sorcery, in hopes of somehow aiding the revolution." He began.

The five gave each other looks, but kept silent.

"I was still not powerful enough to help in a fight then, but I could foresee when the British would attack. I tried to give this information to your general, but he didn't believe me."

He shook his head. "He completely missed the opportunity to catch the Redcoats by surprise, but no, he decided on _his_ tactics. _His_ plans. And look where that got him." He sighed, sounding immensely disappointed.

"He's a good general!" Hamilton suddenly and quite uncharacteristically burst. Laurens turned to him in surprise, and Hamilton himself even looked a little shocked. "Yeah, he is a good general," He continued, glaring. He sounded like he was about to get riled up. "There's no such thing as perfect, but he's the best we got, whether you like it or not, and honestly, if I was given the choice, I'd die for him if the need arose!"

The other four nodded in sage agreement, eyeing the tutor with distaste. The tutor just sighed. "But that's why I did this. I knew you were going to fall right into the trap. Why did I set a trap, you ask? Because, as I said before, I need you." He stood up, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "I need everyone to see just how weak the general truly is."

"And how do you expect to do that, exactly?" Burr raised a skeptical brow. "If you didn't know, the general has been known to kill in _cold blood_ during battle."

"Ah, yes, but do you think he'd actually kill one of his own? Or," He swept his arm across them. " _Five_ of his own?"

There was utter silence as his words sunk in. Slowly, Hamilton began shaking his head, horror and dismay filling his face. Laurens felt panic rise inside of him. Lafayette was suddenly alarmingly pale, and Mulligan's eyes were wide, while Burr's breathing became uneven.

"He- he'd never do such a thing." Hamilton stammered. "He'd never kill us."

"Thats exactly what I was counting on, Hamilton, weren't you listening?" He laughed at him.

Hamilton opened his mouth in protest, but no words came out. He blushed furiously as the tutor just laughed again, shaking his head like he thought he was cute.

Laurens glared at the tutor. "But what do you want from _us?_ " He asked, amidst Hamilton's angry swearing under his breath. "Because if you haven't yet noticed, we'd never betray our country or our general. "

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," The tutor smirked, taking a step towards Hamilton. "You _will_ betray your general, because I'm going to make you do it."

"I'd never do such a thing." Hamilton spat as the tutor came closer to him.

"Yes, you will. My plan is quite clever and foolproof, if you ask me, I mean.."

He was standing in front of Hamilton now, grinning at him with such malice that Hamilton actually looked.. Scared. Terrified, even.

"The great George Washington-" The tutor slowly lifted his hands. "-killed by five young men, two of whom were his favorite secretary and general." He shook his head. "What a shame they're going to have to kill you for this crime. I really did enjoy having this chat."

The tutor's hands hovered closer to Hamilton's head. Hamilton jerked his neck backwards as far as it could possibly go. "No." He breathed. "No!"

Then, in one, swift motion, the tutor grabbed the sides of Hamilton's head, ignoring his wail of, "Noooo!"

His friends could only watch in slowly growing horror as he struggled uselessly at the hands of the deranged man.

Hamilton desperately attempted to jerk his head out of the man's hands, but his grip was too strong. _No._ He thought desperately, trying to break free of the spell that he could feel creeping at the edge of his mind, threatening to encase it completely. He thought of his friends. They needed him, they needed..

But all thoughts of his friends were forcibly swept aside, and the spell continued to creep on, and he shuddered uncontrollably when he felt a hand reaching out to grab his brain, to take control of it. _NO!_ He screamed in his head. The hand jerked backwards a bit, like it was stung. He thought of Eliza, and the hand began to recoil. Triumph filled him as he added in thoughts of his son Philip, until, in one violent movement, the hand shoved all thoughts of Eliza and Philip out and stuffed them into another corner of his skull, and, despite his brain's horrified screams of protest, the hand grabbed his entire brain in its filthy fist. Almost immediately, he felt himself growing weaker. He jerked his head backwards in another futile attempt, but it was no use, and as his struggling slowed, he thought he heard Laurens yell, "No! Alexander!"

Soon, Hamilton was completely immobile as he sat there. He felt no will whatsoever to struggle against the tutor anymore. In fact, he had no will at all. His eyes glazed over, and any bit of control he had left melted away, making way for total and utter submission and obedience.

Laurens watched on in horror as Hamilton sat absolutely still as he allowed the tutor to add his finishing touches to the horrors he was doing, and finally, he let go of him.

"So," The tutor asked, snapping his fingers again. "Are you _now_ willing to be more... Cooperative?"

Hamilton slowly stood, the paralysis spell having been washed away by the melancholy snap that Laurens was, inevitably, learning to dread the next events when he heard it. He shuddered. Hamilton's eyes, which were glazed over, were also eerily unfocused as he replied in a dull, flat voice, "Yes, sir." And, to the utter horror of all his friends, knelt down in a bow at the tutor. The tutor broke into a grin of pleasure, then turned to his other captives. "Who's next?"

Laurens felt a creeping sense of dread overwhelm him as the tutor turned and fixed his gaze upon him, his eyes glinting maliciously.


	3. Cooperate or Compassion?

Hamilton couldn't comprehend a thing. He could still hear, and he could still see, but his mind refused to cooperate with his eyes and ears properly. His own thoughts, every time they attempted to form, would disintegrate into nothingness and be lost to the depths of his skull the moment it was just about to solidify enough for him to comprehend in his mind.

But it didn't matter, not anymore.

This is the exact same thing Laurens, Lafayette, Burr, and Mulligan were experiencing. None of them were aware anymore of who each other were, of what just happened, or what terrible deed they were—unbeknownst to them—about to be forced to do.

They were slightly aware they were on horses, and in the distance, there were tents, though they didn't really care whose they were, or why they were going there.

When they arrived at the campsite, the five of them all, in a strange, melonchanic manner of unison, dismounted their horses and began to march towards the large tent Mulligan and Burr had had to learn was the General's. Their rhythmic footsteps only further aided in the tutor's mind control, and they fell even deeper into their will's slumber as they marched on.

When they were just outside the tent, the five of them felt the slightest hint of emotion break through the set stone of a spell: fear. They didn't want to do this, but as the spell proceeded to demolish every bit of emotion it could find, they soon again found that same, bland and unwavering line of stoic obedience.

Like the mindless puppets lots of people used to entertain children (Which Hamilton thought little of, even when he wasn't under a spell), they were forced to enter the tent, unannounced, which was, besides being very rude, against the General's wishes. Indeed, the look of annoyance on Washington's face was one that was very much pleasing for the tutor. And with him was ("What a stroke of luck!" The tutor giggled) one Martha Washington.

"Hamilton? Lafayette? Mulligan? Laurens? Burr?" Washington asked, sounding disappointed. "I applaud you on your success, but it was not necessary to-"

"This is the last time you will order us around, Washington." Hamilton suddenly felt himself cut him off in unison with the others, their voices echoing menacingly throughout the tent.

Washington frowned. A facial expression of emotion that the five could no longer comprehend. But that was all Washington needed to see (Or rather, hear) to realize something was terribly, terribly wrong. He grabbed his wife by the hand and held her behind him as he stood in front of her protectively. "What are you doing?"

"What we should have done a long time ago, you weak old man." Hamilton slurred. Though wholly emotionless, his face was forcibly contorted into one of dissatisfaction.

"We've tolerated your disappointing leadership for far too long." Lafayette continued in the same dull drawl as Hamilton, his features smoothed out into one of someone who was very much unimpressed.

If Hamilton and Lafayette could properly comprehend anything at the moment, they'd see just how hurt their General looked at those words, especially since they were uttered by the men that he treated like his unofficial sons.

"We trusted you." Laurens shook his head, sighing with disappointment.

"But you disappointed us." Burr frowned with distaste.

"But no more." Mulligan scowled bitterly.

The five of them advanced towards him slowly, their hands being forced to their hips as they reached for the pistols that rested there.

With that keen eye all generals should have, Washington noticed this. He took a step backward, whispering, "Please, don't do this." He shook his head, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. Anyone who knew him would know that he had absolutely no thoughts for himself. He was, undeniably, fearing for his wife, seeing that they were quite outgunned and outmanned. And of course, he also feared for the men who were just about to attack him. He simply did not want to have to fight back. He couldn't hurt them. He couldn't.

"Please." He repeated desperately, his fingers tightening on his wife's hand. "Son."

"Sorry, Washington." Hamilton smirked. "But you can't call me son."

Then they attacked.

Martha screamed as Hamilton dove at Washington with his pistol ready to fire, but Washington, shoving Martha out of the way, caught Hamilton's outstretched hand and karate chopped it. Hamilton fell, but he didn't seem to be in pain at all. In that instant, Burr and Laurens were upon him, trying to grab his arms in an attempt to restrain him while Mulligan grabbed Washington's pistol from him. He tossed it to the side.

Lafayette was cornering Martha as she attempted to back away, fear and mortification written all over her face. She shook her head, "Lafayette, please." She begged, but he only laughed at her in response. Her back hit the corner of the tent, and immediately, Lafayette grasped her wrist tightly. She screamed right then, but he clamped his hand down over her mouth, effectively muffling her pleas.

Washington's face contorted into an alarmingly furious one, and he broke free from Laurens' and Burr's grip and, with a cry of rage, punched Mulligan in the ribs. Mulligan slid backwards by the sheer force of it, but in response, he just shook his head, laughing.

Washington, who stood stunned for a fraction of a second, was instantly cannoned into from behind. Washington tumbled forward and fell flat face-down onto the ground, and Laurens and Burr, with a strange, unnatural strength unlike their own, grabbed his arms and dragged him out of the tent, his protests fruitless. Mulligan and Hamilton followed after them, and Lafayette, who had poor Martha at gunpoint, forced her forward as they followed their cohorts and the general.

Once outside, Laurens and Burr dropped Washington to the ground. Before he could get up, Laurens stepped on his back, and Washington cried out in pain.

At the noise, the other men in the camp ran over. Seeing their General on the ground and at the mercy of their fellow aides, they took out their pistols in alarm. All five of the bewitched men did not wince in the slightest. Lafayette simply raised his pistol at the head of Martha, and the other men hesitated, then after Lafayette gave them a warning look, they lowered their guns altogether.

"Your general is weak." Hamilton announced to the crowd of fearful onlookers. "You blind fools are taking far too long to notice that."

"So, we decided," Laurens continued, putting more weight onto Washington's back, gaining another yelp from him. "That we'd show you."

Laurens finally lifted his foot off Washington's back, and he scrambled up immediately, drawing his sword. "Hamilton, Laurens, Lafayette, Mulligan, Burr," He pleaded, saying their names individually in a desperate hope of bringing them back. "Please. I don't understand."

"You don't understand?" Burr asked, sounding amused, though really he was not.

The spell which had taken over the five's minds was slowly strengthening in power the longer they were kept under it. Their sense of recognition and ability of self control was soon diminishing.

Lafayette sighed. He was still holding onto Washington's wife. "You really are quite slow. We are doing this because we _need_ to do this. It's for the greater good of this country. This revolution is not worth believing in."

"But you didn't believe that before, Lafayette," Washington panted, keeping his sword at the ready. "You told me you believed in the revolution so much that you were willing to do anything for it."

Lafayette twitched. Then, after a moment, he shook his head. "My eyes have been opened. I see the truth."

"The truth..?"

"All you want is power," Hamilton cut him of sharply. "You're just taking advantage of these soldiers' and aides' trust. It's because of you many men can't return to their homes. Fathers, sons, brothers, husbands," He indicated at himself. "My wife wrote to you, asking you to send me home."

Washington was shaking his head. "No, that's not the case, Hamilton-"

"But you didn't, did you? You just wanted to keep my skills all to yourself!" Hamilton yelled. It was a strange yell, as it was a really unemotional one, effecting the impact of his words, but there _was_ still impact.

All the other soldiers and aide-de-camps were looking at each other quite uncomfortably. Some men really looked a bit pained as Hamilton's words hit home, and those men looked down sadly. Others were also beginning to whisper to each other, causing the crowd to buzz in a melancholy manner. Washington, swallowing, turned back to his secretary. "Hamilton, I'm so sorry I didn't send you home when your wife asked."

Hamilton's face remained uncharacteristically emotionless as he watched Washington's grip on his sword loosen.

"I was asked to take care of my country. That's all I intended to do. I didn't want to take away the men from their families by force. "

Lafayette shoved Martha roughly to Mulligan and went to stand beside Hamilton as Washington desperately attempted to call them back.

"But what about all the guns and ships I brought from France?" Lafayette accused. "You probably just emotionally manipulated me so I would spend money for them so you could use them all for yourself!"

That accusation almost didn't even make sense to Washington. He'd never asked Lafayette to bring more guns and ships to America from France, all he'd wanted was his expertise on strategy and battle tactics, not the extra supplies, and he said just that.

"But that's not true, Lafayette, I never asked you to-"

"And now he's trying to put the blame on someone else." Mulligan, who was now holding Martha at gunpoint, sighed.

"What?!" That was literally the only word Washington could say right now. He was so puzzled that his sword lay forgotten at his side.

"Leave him alone!" Martha screeched, defending her husband with an aggressive snarl, which caused Mulligan to nudge her roughly with the butt of his gun, muttering, "Be quiet,"

"He's a good General, guys, I don't understand why you-" Another aide piped up, before he was given a dangerous scowl by Burr.

"But he really is-" Another man tried to interfere, gaining a glare from Hamilton.

Soon, verbal protests were exploding all over them. Washington looked quite touched, though that expression was tainted by the fact that he also still looked really hurt.

Then suddenly, and quite out of the blue, as if they had been yelled at to do it (Which they were), Lafayette and Hamilton both dove at Washington at the exact same time.

Washington gasped, scrambling to the side.

Lafayette drew his sword, and Hamilton raised his pistol, aiming for Washington. Before he knew it, the gun was knocked out of his hand by the general, and Hamilton himself was knocked down.

The other three just stood and watched the fight with bored expressions. Mulligan, though, continued to keep Martha at gunpoint.

Quick as lightning, Washington evaded Lafayette's attacks. Then with one swift motion, he used his sword to throw Lafayette's out of his hand. He kicked Lafayette in the stomach, causing him to fall onto his bottom onto the ground.

At that moment, Hamilton suddenly leaped onto his back. Washington violently shook him off and shoved him to the ground beside Lafayette, then he swiftly took out his second pistol and pointed it at Hamilton's chest. He lifted his sword up as well, threateningly close to Lafayette.

They stared up at him, fake disbelief etched all across their faces.

"I'm sorry," Washington breathed. He felt his own heart break as, at that very moment, he realized what he needed to do. What he must do to keep everyone safe. "But you're a danger to everyone here, and.. I can't just lock you up. A t-traitor to the revolution _has_ to be k-killed, I.." But he couldn't finish his words, for the tears that were streaming down his cheeks as he stared at the two of them. He choked on a sob as he tried to continue, but he simply couldn't as the tears continued to flow nonstop. His arms trembled, ready to do the terrible deeds. But he couldn't kill them...

Yet he had to.

Lafayette and Hamilton blinked at him. Their eyes flickered just a bit.

Lafayette stared at the sword pointed at him. His muddled brain didn't really care for the fact that he was probably about to die, but... It did care for the fact that somebody was crying. His heart beat faster as his concern slowly broke through. That voice that came with the sobs began to sound more and more familiar.. His heart swelled up as it was abruptly refilled with... Was that compassion?

Hamilton, who had run away from death more than he could count, didn't care that he was about to finally be caught by it. He stood still, waiting patiently for the blow. He could hear the general speaking, which he did not care about, but when the speaking turned to sobbing, he twitched. He felt something break through... Something like... Compassion?

At that same moment, Lafayette and Hamilton, with shocking, abrupt realization, suddenly realized what was going on. Well, part of it. They only knew they were being cornered by the general, and his eyes were flashing with heartbroken sadness.

But there was determination in his hands as he tensed up on his weapons.

"Sir?" Hamilton and Lafayette gasped in unison, their eyes widening with fear, horror, and confusion.

"W-what are y-you doing?!" Hamilton yelped, scrambling backwards. He felt terror overwhelm him as Washington leaned in closer, effectively stopping his struggling and forcing him to stay still.

"M-mon ami?" Lafayette stuttered, dread filling his heart. "Are- Are you going to k-kill us?"

Washington winced at their cries. "I'm so sorry," He repeated, voice cracking.

"N-no, I d-don't understand, sir, w-what did we do w-wrong, sir?" Hamilton stammered desperately, clutching the soil underneath him. It felt cold as it ran under his fingernails. Was he about to be shot dead, right here on this very spot?

Washington's heart tore at him as he heard the sudden fear and pain overwhelming them. He swallowed. "You betrayed America." Washington whispered, as if he himself still didn't believe it. "You attacked me and my wife."

Hamilton's eyes went wide with disbelief and alarm. He shook his head. He wanted so desperately to scream, "You're lying!" but.. His expression. It simply looked too genuine for it to be so.

Lafayette, who at those words looked into the distance in some alarm, saw, to his utter disbelief, Mulligan, still holding onto Martha by the wrist as he pointed a pistol at her head, his finger tensed on the trigger.

"Hercules!" Lafayette cried in alarm. "What are you doing?!"

He sighed at them. He continued to watch on with an expression of carelessness.

"Laurens," Hamilton turned to see his best friend watching with a stony expression on his face. "Please, what did we do?"

Laurens just shook his head and looked away.

"Laurens!" Hamilton cried desperately.

Lafayette looked at Hamilton, his eyes filled with sorrow. Then, nervously, he turned to the general himself. He swallowed, then slowly shifted to his knees. He stared down at his legs. An obvious sign of an acceptance to his fate. There were tears dripping down his face. "I'm so sorry for whatever I did," Lafayette whispered. "Whatever I did, I must truly deserve to be killed. I'm sorry."

Hamilton stared at his friend in disbelief. He couldn't believe that he was ready to die for something he didn't even know he did. Hamilton looked down at his hands, then back up at Washington, who looked like he just wanted to throw away the gun and sword and forget about everything that just happened.

Then Hamilton, with a sudden rush of determination, got up from his bottom and kneeled as well. "I'm sorry, too," He murmured. It hurt his pride to do this, but if the general had to kill them, then he and Lafayette _must_ have done something truly terrible indeed. "I trust you, my general, that your reason for this is the right one." His voice began to crack as tears threatened to overflow. He looked down in submission, waiting for the blow.

Washington stared at them. Their sudden change of heart... It didn't make sense. One side of his brain was yelling at him to do the deed, to seal their fate. While the other was screaming it was possible that they hadn't meant to do that at all, but that didn't make any sense!

The argument inside of him continued. Steeling himself, he slowly raised his pistol to the side of Hamilton's head, and Hamilton winced involuntarily. He saw a tear escape his eye as he looked up at his general and, slowly, he nodded.

Washington took a deep breath and tried to ignore the tear. He gently put his sword under Lafayette's chin. He carefully, and almost gently, raised it up with the tip of his sword, so he would look up at him. Then when it was raised, he put the sword straight at his throat. Lafayette swallowed, his cheeks stained with tears as he waited for Washington to do the deed.

At that precise moment, Laurens, who had been watching again, gasped. His eyes unglazed, and he stared in shock as dismay overwhelmed him. "A-Alexander?" He breathed in disbelief, blanching.

Hamilton looked at his friend from across the field. He, for the first time Laurens had ever known him, looked entirely resigned to the fact that he was about to die.

"ALEXANDER!" Laurens repeated, running forward. He was stopped in his tracks by another aide, who looked angry at him.

"No, sir, no, what did he do wrong?!" Laurens pleaded as the aide grabbed his arms and held them behind his back. He struggled, but he felt extremely tired and weak for some reason, as if he had been drained of all his energy.

Hamilton shook his head at him, as if to say "There's nothing you can do about it."

Laurens stared at him, his bright eyes staring straight into Hamilton's bright blue as, almost ceremoniously, his best friend whispered the words, "Goodbye, my friend." As tears began to slide down his cheeks.

Laurens leaned forward, and when he saw Lafayette, he let out a shuddering breath of disbelief escape him. "Lafayette, no, not you too.."

"It was nice knowing you, mon ami." Lafayette whispered, swallowing.

Laurens shook his head. This couldn't be happening. He turned, and when he saw Mulligan, he gasped. "Hercules! No! What are you doing?!"

Mulligan stared at him for a moment, in which his unfocused eyes focused themselves. Suddenly, he glanced down at his hands and gasped, dropping the pistol and letting Martha go. "What-?"

Burr, who was watching the two of his friends getting themselves ready to be killed with a bored expression, suddenly widened his eyes. "Alexander? Lafayette?" He gasped, taking a step forward.

Mulligan craned his neck to look at what Burr was talking about. He paled, and both of them ran forward, screaming, "Alexander! Lafayette! No!"

Martha, who hadn't left the spot she was being held capture in, looked extremely sorry for them as they ran to their friends.

They were tugged backwards violently as they were caught by the arms by two other aides, who forced their hands behind their backs as well. Burr and Mulligan were weaker than usual as well, and the aides kicked the back of their legs, making them fall on their knees. The man holding Laurens followed suit, then, bending down simultaneously, they took their pistols away from them. The three men, tying Laurens', Burr's, and Mulligan's hands together, raised the pistols at the each of them, and they stopped struggling immediately.

Hamilton took a deep breath as he stared at his friend again. He was well aware that the moment Washington pulled the trigger, his aides would follow suit, and all of his friends surely would die as well. Hamilton looked at his General. "Sir, are.. Do they have to be killed as well? I- I mean, are they guilty of the same crime as we?"

Washington didn't have to look over his shoulder as he replied with a sad wince. "Yes." The word was said with such heaviness that it tore at Hamilton's heart.

"I'm sorry." Washington said again, his finger tensing on the trigger.

Hamilton took a deep breath as he saw Lafayette, with sadness, close his eyes, waiting for Washington to strike as tears ran down his cheeks once again. Hamilton felt his own warm tears slide in a waterfall down his face as, glancing one last time at his general, he shut his eyes as well.

Laurens, Mulligan, and Burr, who looked terribly confused, knew that they were in for the same fate. Laurens couldn't help it—tears welled in his eyes as well as he saw Burr begin to cry, and Mulligan, who was probably the least likely to do such a thing, had his own eyes wet. Together, they shut their eyes to the world, getting ready for the blow.

Washington stared at the two young men at his feet, who were utterly resigned to the fact that he, the general they trusted (Or used to trust. Washington couldn't make up his mind anymore), would kill them. He felt dread fill his already pain-filled heart as he tensed his fingers to do what he needed to do, but..

He stared at Hamilton, then at Lafayette. Hamilton was shaking terribly, white as sheet as he sobbed silently, and Lafayette was taking deep breaths of the air that, Washington could tell, he believed to be his last as he tried to control the tears flowing down his cheeks. Washington was desperately attempting to get rid of the fatherly love he had for them, but then at that moment, the thought he had been so desperately trying to suppress exploded in his head;

 _They may not be my biological children,_ his head screamed, _but they're as good as them! I cannot kill my own sons!_

He lifted the sword off Lafayette's throat and the pistol away from Hamilton's head, shaking his head. "No," He whispered.

Hamilton and Lafayette opened their eyes, first looking utterly disbelieving, then so relieved and happy that Washington couldn't help it; He started crying again. He knew he should be embarrassed, considering how much tears he shed in front of his men that day, but he didn't care.

At the sight of their general crying, they began to cry as well. Washington let the weapons fall to the side. He held out his hands, and, after a moments hesitation, they took it. He pulled them to their feet, and Lafayette all but embraced him as he shook his hand gratefully. Washington then turned to the aides holding Laurens, Mulligan and Burr at gunpoint. "Let them go." Washington commanded. The aides gave him a look of disbelief, "They dishonered you!" They cried.

"We what?" Hamilton sounding bewildered as he wiped at his eyes.

Washington gave the aides a look. "I'm beginning to think it wasn't their fault."

"How could it not be their fault?" Martha asked as she went up to her husband and took his hand, squeezing it.

"I don't know." Washington replied, caressing her fingers. "But I think we should find out."

Laurens, Mulligan, and Burr were on their feet now as well, and they ran to their friends and grasped each other's wrists and clapped each other on the back affectionately as Washington furrowed his brows, trying to uncover the mystery.

Finally, the five slowly approached the general. They saluted, and Washington, smiling a little, nodded at them.

"How exactly did we dishonor you, sir?" Lafayette asked timidly, lowering his arm.

"You truly don't remember?"

Lafayette and the others frowned and glanced at one another. Hamilton scratched his head.

"Do you remember what happened at Burr's house?" Washington asked quietly.

Hamilton scrunched up his eyes. "I'm having a little trouble doing so, your Excellency."

"Me, too." The other four replied, who were wearing similar expressions of strain as they all attempted to dig up their memories.

"Please try." Washington urged them gently.

Hamilton took a deep breath and closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. His friends followed suit.

"Well... I think I remember we were supposed to investigate.. Something," Lafayette scratched his chin.

"And we went to Burr's house," Mulligan continued, sounding distant.

"Then we saw Burr tied up in a chair.." Hamilton murmured.

Lauren frowned. "Wasn't that me?"

"Uh, I'm not sure." Burr replied. "Although I remember going in the house with the others."

Hamilton furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't think he was tied up."

"He wasn't?" Mulligan asked, sounding like he was getting more and more bewildered.

"No, but he couldn't move." Hamilton frowned.

"Because..?" Martha asked.

"Because..." Hamilton murmured.

Then, with a horrified expression, all five of their eyes popped wide open, and they all gasped, "The tutor."

"The tutor that Burr suspected was a loyalist?" Washington asked, trying to keep himself from sounding skeptical.

But they didn't reply. They had suddenly gone stock-still, their eyes alarmingly wide. "No.. Don't give in. Don't. Give-" Hamilton murmured. Then all at the same time, their eyes glazed over, their bodies relaxed, and they broke into devious smirks.

Mulligan, unnaturally fast, grabbed Martha again, swiping his discarded pistol from the ground.

"No!" Washington yelled, turning to help her, but Lafayette was in his way. Lafayette shoved him to the ground, and Hamilton broke into an evil grin. "We told you he was weak." He chuckled.

The men hurried to assist, but Mulligan clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he put the pistol to Martha's head once again.

Washington stared up at them in dismay. _It's happening all over again. I was just getting through to them!_ He thought in frustration as he swiped at Lafayette's legs, causing him to tumble to the ground. Washington stood up and bent down and grabbed the hilt of his sword, but Hamilton stepped on the blade of it, effectively stopping him from taking it. Washington tugged furiously, but it was no use.

Washington barely had time to comprehend what was happening before he was grabbed from behind. He kicked furiously, but Burr and Laurens' grips were incredibly stronger that usual again, and, once again, he couldn't break free.

They forced him to the middle of the circle the surrounding men were making. Lafayette kicked the underside of Washington's knees, and he stumbled onto them. He looked up and took a fast breath as Hamilton pointed Washington's own sword at his throat.

"No!" Martha screamed, trying to pry Mulligan's hand off her wrist, but he was too strong, and in a swift motion he let go of her wrist and clamped his hand down onto her mouth, effectively muffling her protests while keeping her restrained at the same time.

"Finally," Hamilton grinned, his breathing ragged. "We will be rid of the Universe's most profound mistake;" He raised the sword a little higher, right under Washington's chin. "George Washington."

Washington swallowed. "Hamilton, what happened? You were just-"

"Just blindsided," His secretary finished. "But no more. With you dead, America will belong to King George, and there will be no ungrateful little pests ruining it for him."

Washington shook his head the slightest but to avoid slitting his throat. "No, don't do this, please!"

Lafayette, who was standing beside Hamilton with his arms crossed, laughed. "How interesting to watch him beg," He smirked, patting Washington on the head, gaining gasps from the surrounding men. "But, sadly, that will gain nothing."

Hamilton chuckled. "Such hope in this revolution is childish. If you agree to surrender to the British, maybe we'll spare you."

Washington scowled. "Never."

Hamilton sighed, glancing at Lafayette as if Washington was a hopeless child that refused to listen to his parents. "At least we tried." Then he let the blade rest lightly on Washington's throat, precisely on his Adam's apple. "Any last words, Washington?" He asked.

Washington could feel the warm blood trickling down his throat as the blade cut his skin. He forced himself not to swallow again, as that would only cut him deeper. He looked into Hamilton's eyes. He furrowed his brow. They were glazed and unfocused. They were nowhere as bright as they had been mere moments ago. Washington frowned to himself, his brain working unnaturally fast, as if it knew his life depended on it. He tried to remember what happened before they went back to normal (For those few precious minutes).

He remembered he had them at sword and gun point, but that couldn't be it. He remembered talking to them, but that was obviously not the reason, because he'd been trying to talk to them the whole time. Then he remembered how he cried at the prospect of killing them. He remembered the flicker in their eyes, then..

But his train of thought was interrupted as Hamilton prodded him a little harder with the sword as he raised an expectant brow. "Well?"

Washington stared at his eyes again, then at Lafayette's. Hesitantly, he said the only thing he could think of at that current moment.

He looked at his wife, who looked terrified. "I love you," He mouthed. She burst into tears as she sobbed silent sobs. He turned back to Hamilton and Lafayette, dismay overwhelming his heart. "I'm so, so sorry I wasn't the general you wanted me to be," He choked out. "Goodbye, my sons." He closed his eyes, and a tear escaped them. There was no use fighting. He knew he just had to accept it.

Hamilton's brain was trying to say something to him, he could feel it, but the hand on his brain kept swiping it away, kept keeping it from forming properly enough for him to comprehend. Desperate to find out what it was, he forced the thought to form. The hand suddenly stung his brain, and he fell back into his slumber.

That is, until he heard a sob. It was not the same one as before, but that of a woman. Hamilton blinked. His muddled brain didn't care that much, really, but when the voice started to sob even more desperately than before, the spell upon him cracked a fraction, and he suddenly realized who was kneeling in front of him.

Washington. With a sword against his throat.

Hamilton's mind balked as it realized this, and the spell cracked more. His head hurt as he forced his stiff, uncooperative neck to look down.

His own hand was holding the sword.

Hamilton gasped, the spell completely washing away. He took a step backwards in utter shock, breathing heavily. "What am I- what-" He breathed, dropping the sword to the ground. He clutched his forehead. He had a screaming headache.

"Hamilton?" Washington asked. He sounded extremely tired, and.. Resigned.

Hamilton looked back at the General. It took a moment, but his mind, which was moving a little slower than usual, finally recognized the people holding Washington captive.

"John? Burr? What are you doing?!" Hamilton cried, grabbing Washington's arm and trying to release it from the four hands holding it. His fingers felt clumsy and weak as he pulled, but it was no use. They were too strong. He looked his friend in the face. "John!" He yelled.

Laurens rolled his eyes at him, as if he was acting childishly.

"Burr," Hamilton panted, turning to him. "Please, you're more reasonable than this."

Burr shook his head. "This is the reasonable thing to do."

Hamilton shook his head in disbelief. He turned, and when he saw Mulligan, holding an angrily sobbing Martha captive, he gasped. "Hercules! What are you doing?! Let her go!"

Mulligan only laughed at him, adjusting his grip on the gun.

He turned to his French friend with panic. "Lafayette, help me!"

Lafayette raised an eyebrow. "Mere moments ago you were about to kill him. What changed?"

"Me- changed- about to kill-?" Hamilton sputtered incoherently. He was about to _kill_ Washington? Actually _murder_ his general?

"No. I couldn't have been," Hamilton protested, defiant. "I'd never do that. You're lying!"

"I'm not lying." Lafayette replied calmly, as if everything would be okay. As if it was a completely rational thing to do. "You had a sword at his throat. You saw it yourself, mon ami."

Hamilton shook his head. The use of mon ami sounded wrong, like he didn't really mean it. Besides, he knew very well that he had, in fact, been pointing a sword at the general's throat, but him about to kill _him_ was an entirely different matter.

"No," Hamilton repeated, shaking his head. "I'd never betray his Excellency."

"But you already did, Hamilton." Laurens replied. His voice was strangely soothing, like Lafayette's had been. He looked like he was trying to be comforting, but he was anything but.

"You're the reason we even got this far into defeating him," Mulligan added with that same relaxed tone.

"You just need to finish the job." Burr piped up dully.

Hamiton shook his head and looked away from him. Lafayette suddenly held the hilt of the dreaded sword out to him, its blade flashing brightly in the sun.

" _Finish the job_." All four chanted.

He suddenly felt extremely sleepy, as if he had drank too much beer. His head began to spin, and his eyes became blurry. He groaned and clutched his head as he felt the spell beginning to creep in again, threatening to take control again. "No, not again.." He whispered, digging his nails into his hair.

Washington stared at Hamilton, panic etched all over his face as Hamilton continued to groan and shout to himself.

Then, finally, as like a brick to the head, it hit him, painful and clear. It was _sorcery_. Hamilton and the others must have been put under a spell!

That explained everything. That was why they had suddenly turned against him. Why they tried to kill him. It wasn't their fault at all.

He suddenly felt guilty. _Yet_ , he thought to himself with regret, _when the spell momentarily broke, I made it seem like it was, even if they couldn't remember a thing. When I could have helped them by trying to prevent it even further, I.._

 _I tried to kill them._

Washington looked down in shame. How could he have been so blind? Why did it take so long for him to realize something so terribly obvious?

Reluctantly, he raised his head again. Hamilton had fallen to his knees now, desperately refusing to give in as all the other spellbound four chanted at him to " _Finish the job_."

"Hamilton!" Washington yelled.

Hamilton didn't seem to hear him. He whimpered as the spell began to take hold.

" _ALEXANDER_!" Washington cried out in desperation, his voice cutting out loud and clear through the hypnotic chant.

Hamilton looked up weakly. His breathing was heavy, and he was pale, beads of perspiration shining in the sun in the otherwise chilly day.

"Look at me," Washington whispered. Hamilton obediently, yet quite reluctantly, looked him in the eye. Washington gave him a knowing look as he whispered, "It's not your fault that you tried to kill me."

"But it _iiiiiissssss_..." He whined. His eyes began to unfocuse as he drawled out that last word, so much longer than necessary.

"No, it's not." Washington spoke firmly. Hamilton looked up again, his eyes focusing themselves.

"It isn't?" He whispered, sounding hopeful.

"N-"

"Yes, it is." Lafayette scowled. "Which is why it's better if you just go and _finish the job_."

Hamilton had looked down with shame the moment Lafayette had uttered the word, "Yes," And looking at his face, saw the glaze that covered his eyes starting to creep out from the corners of his vision yet again.

Shaking his head, Washington yelled, "No, Don't listen to him!"

Hamilton wailed, gripping his head. "It's my fault! It's all my fault! I dissapointed you! B- _betrayed you!_ " His voice cracked, and his eyes slowly began to unfocuse themselves yet again.

"No. It's not true. Don't listen to them." Washington whispered, trying to sound sincere. "I forgive you, Hamilton. I admit I initially believed you were actually trying to kill me, that you were actually going against me."

Hamilton moaned.

"but I was wrong. You'd never do that to me." He tried to catch Hamilton's eyes. "I trust you, Alexander."

Hamilton was crying. Tears were cascading down his cheeks as he looked up into Washington's eyes. There was a strong look of sadness in his eyes, but, thankfully, his eyes focused themselves once again as Hamilton whispered in disbelief, "You do?"

"Of course I do, Alex."

Hamilton looked at him, then looked at his hands, then, to Washington's great relief, he broke into a small smile.

But Washington's momentary words did not keep the spell at bay for too long. Hamilton, who abruptly gasped, turned to the General with a panicked look in his eyes as he whispered, "It's too strong."

"No, Alexander, you can fight it, I know you can!"

Hamilton took in a ragged breath, closing his eyes as he tried to fight the spell that was slowly, but obviously taking over him.

Washington leaned forward desperately, but he simply could not pull himself free. "Alexander!"

Suddenly, Lafayette stumbled forward, as if he had been trying to get through some particularly stubborn bit of tent cloth when you can't find the flap. He was panting as he took deep, desperate breaths while he leaned on his knees. "What happened?" He murmured. He looked quite shaky as he straightened himself up. Then his eyes widened at the menacing scene set before him.

"Alexander, mon ami, what is ha-"

"Leave me alooooneee!" Hamilton whined. He was on all fours and panting heavily, the spell being in such close proximity that he was slightly under it enough so that he did not realize Lafayette had broken free.

Lafayette, looking hurt and confused, turned to Washington. "Sir!" He cried, gasping, "What-"

"There's no time to explain," Washington cut him off hurriedly. "You can't make them let go of me, not yet."

"But-"

"Lafayette, listen to me," Washington's voice, strained thought it was, had become more urgent as he tried to get Lafayette to listen. "You need to help me."

"What- what do you need me to do?" Lafayette rubbed his face. There was sweat all over it in a alarming amount.

"Hamilton is dangerously close to falling under a terrible spell," Washington pulled again at his trapped arms, to no avail. "I think you can break him free, you just have to-"

He suddenly erupted into a violent fit of coughing. Alarmed, Lafayette stepped forward. Washington opened his mouth again to finish his words, but no sound came out.

Washington's eyes widened in alarm, and he mouthed something, but his voice was gone. He looked at Lafayette and shook his head helplessly as the latter clutched at his forehead, confused.

All the other men looked like they wanted dearly to help, but they were watching Mulligan's hand on the pistol's trigger warily as he continued to keep Martha captive while he went on chanting dully.

Lafayette was giving Washington a bewildered look. He had no idea what Washington needed him to do, but..

He turned back to Hamilton, who was all but collapsing into the floor as he lay at the edge of consciousness. It pained Lafayette to see his friend like this, so, he did the only thing he could think of.

Bending down, he gripped Hamilton's shoulder firmly. "Alexander, listen to me."

"Go away." Hamilton murmured

"Alexander, please, I.. Uh.." Lafayette thought frantically of all those times Hamilton had needed help calming down. "I need you to count with me."

"Count?" Hamilton asked in a small, weak voice.

"Yes, just repeat after me." Lafayette whispered soothingly, gently lifting him to his knees again. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf-"

He was cut off by a sharp pain in his head. He yelled and grabbed at it and grimaced.

Lafayette soon realized what just happened. When he was counting, he had felt his focus shift, just a bit, to register the chanting around him. He figured that was what was putting Hamilton under the spell, and—He winced again—as it had affected him like that, it must mean he was also trying to be taken in.

"Alexander, I can't do this without you, you have to count with me." Lafayette took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Please. Un, deux, trois.." He faltered. He sunk to his knees weakly as the chanting started up in his own head.

Lafayette could feel the spell creeping in. He could feel himself nearing the edge of his control. He shuddered in pain, but it was no use, no use-

".. Quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf." Hamilton finished, singing it in some sort of tune. He sounded less weak than before. He clapped Lafayette on the shoulder weakly and kept his hand there as he tried to give him an encouraging grin, which turned out more as a grimace.

As the spell's attempts to take hold of him weakened slightly, Lafayette found the strength to nod at him. They repeated the numbers, using the same tune Hamilton had been using a moment ago. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf."

Washington nodded approvingly, breaking into a small smile. However, Laurens, letting go of the General's right arm and giving it to Burr, stepped forward with a deadly look. "You think you can beat us with but a few _numbers?_ "

Hamilton and Lafayette ignored him as they continued to silently sing the tune, forcing their minds to be enthralled in the numbers and the numbers only.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Laurens yelled, reaching out to grab Hamilton's arm.

Hamilton looked up at him with a pained expression as Lafayette continued to count. "John, please."

Laurens continued to stare at him with his arm outstretched, ready to grasp at him, but his arm refused to move any farther. He growled, but it was no use, and suddenly, he had fallen onto his knees with a shuddering gasp.

"Where am- What-" Laurens muttered, looking around at the crowd, the Washington couple, being restrained roughly; and at them themselves, on the ground and counting desperately. He looked at his two friends, and they just shook their heads as they continued to mumble the French words that were somehow keeping them free from the bondage of the tutor's spell.

Laurens looked at the other two spellbound men, who were continually chanting as if nothing was happening. It took a moment, but soon Laurens, finally realizing what must be happening, started to sing in time with the other two.

"Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf," They sang, looking at each other with slowly growing grins as their strength returned to them.

As their counting started to grow in noise, Mulligan and Burr fell to the ground, as if they had been hit. After an exchange of bewildered looks, they both ran to the group of three.

Washington and Martha fell to the ground in relief, and Burr and Mulligan turned in shock.

"Was that us?" Burr gasped. Mulligan's eyes widened when he saw Martha and the pistol lying side by side on the cold ground.

"It doesn't matter." Washington exhaled, the spell on him having been broken the moment the last of the two awoke. Standing up shakily and dusting himself off, he pulled his wife back up and massaged her fingers soothingly. "You're back. You broke the spell."

Hamilton whooped, raising his fist triumphantly, and his friends followed with glee as they celebrated their victory.

But their cheers turned to yells of horror as a flame erupted from the depths of the earth.

Washington, who looked incredibly angry and irritated, grabbed his wife and shoved her into the crowd. The aides immediately took her arms and, after a nod from Washington, hurried and ran as they brought her to safety.

The five, who were nearest the flame, narrowed their eyes as they tried to perceive something that they thought might appear from within. You could imagine the look on their faces when, quite slowly, just like a shadow growing on a wall, a dark silhouette slowly began to materialize. Then in the blink of an eye, a man was standing there, almost as if he had been there all along.

"You!" The five cried in anger, standing protectively in front of their General, who was standing behind them a few feet with his sword back in his hand.

The man, who was, of course, the dreaded tutor, sighed. "You disappoint me."

"Good," Hamilton smirked. "I was worried we were doing otherwise."

Washington stared at the tutor with fire in his eyes. "It was you that put them under that spell, wasn't it?"

The tutor smirked, crossing his arms. "Yes. Quite impressive, wasn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" Burr, who had obviously not realized he was under a spell a moment ago (Considering he was one of the last to break free), asked, but everyone ignored him.

"No, It was not impressive in any way." Washington said, his voice deadly and threatening.

The tutor shrugged. "Eh, either way, I got you and everyone else fooled."

All five of the formerly bewitched turned to look at Washington with shock and confusion written all over their faces.

Lafayette bit his lips. "Got.. Everyone fooled?"

"We did more than just try to kill you, didn't we?" Hamilton asked in a quiet voice.

Washington looked uncomfortable as he remembered all the terrible things they said about him and Martha. He opened his mouth to respond, but the tutor cut him of with a sharp laugh. "Oh, he didn't tell you, did he?"

Laurens swallowed. "I doubt we did anything _that_ bad.." He glanced at Washington again. "Right?"

Washington could only give him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry-"

"Oh, you did something pretty bad." The tutor laughed. "And said a lot of stuff you might consider bad as well, although it was all true for me."

"I'm getting nervous.." Burr murmured.

The tutor grinned. "Well, you should be."

Then suddenly, all five felt their memories being forced out of somewhere in their heads, and they saw themselves doing everything they just did under the mind control: Them yelling at Washington, insulting him, attacking him, trying to turn everyone against him...

... But what hurt the most was the look on Washington's face. He looked incredibly pained, as if his heart had been stabbed by their words, like a knife, like he really believed it was them who were doing all those terrible things...

When the vision faded, the five were breathing heavily, as if they had ran miles and miles. Lafayette was whispering, " _Non, non, non, ça ne peut pas être vrai..._ "

Hamilton turned shakily to his general. "Did- did you truly believe that was us?"

Washington grimaced.

Hamilton breathed faster. "But sir, I'd never say that about you, I'd never-"

"Obviously, he thought you would." The tutor laughed. "He doesn't trust you enough to know you'd never betray your precious general."

Washington shook his head. "No, don't listen to him, Alexander, I trust all of you, I really do, I just-"

Hamilton looked down at his feet, despair written all over his face as he refused to meet Washington's gaze.

Lafayette wasn't even looking at him—he was covering his face in shame with one hand and hugging himself with the other, murmuring an assortment of French words Washington couldn't understand.

Laurens looked at him for a moment as Washington continued to try to apologize to them, but Laurens winced, his face turning red, and he looked away again, as if he suddenly felt embarrassed and ashamed around their general.

Mulligan, who had turned away, was pretending to be occupied in his coat's sleeve, but his uncomfortable expression gave him away.

Burr was crossing his arms and ignoring everyone as he closed his eyes and shook his head at himself.

"It wasn't your fault!" Washington cried, noticing their reactions.

"Deep down, do you really believe that?" The tutor asked quietly.

Hamilton grumbled, "I don't know."

Washington could see what the tutor wanted. He wanted them to give up. He was taking them down so they wouldn't want to fight back anymore.

"No, listen to me, I don't blame you for all the terrible things you did and said." Washington desperately cried out, taking some steps forward. "I-"

The tutor groaned. "Must you keep interfering?" He asked, irritated. He snapped his fingers, and Washington frowned. He went to take another step forward, but his legs refused to move. He looked down.

His legs were fine except for the fact that he couldn't feel them anymore. His eyes widened in alarm as he felt the numbness continue to spread; up and around his legs, continuing to his stomach, encasing his chest..

Soon enough, it was just his neck and head that he could move. He glared at the tutor. "What did you do to me?!"

"Doing," The tutor corrected. "I'm not yet done."

At those words, the five looked up, and when they saw their general frozen in a running position, their eyes widened. "S-sir?" They whispered tentatively, as if they were afraid they weren't allowed to talk to him anymore.

"I forgive you." Washington said. That was all he could say before the spell crept up to his face, and the spell was complete. He could no longer move a muscle, nor could he feel a thing. He was as still as a statue, a statue that looked like it was in a state of such terrible sadness, like he had just lost everything.

Lafayette's eyes went wide. "Sir?"

When Washington couldn't reply, Hamilton and Lafayette stumbled forward, crying, "Sir!"

The other three looked back to the tutor with angry glares, and the tutor only raised his eyebrows in amusement.

The other soldiers, looking at each other in alarm, hurried to help Washington, but they all immediately froze as the tutor trapped them in the same spell. Now the five were trapped, surrounded by the menacing wall of immobile soldiers. At that, the tutor grinned.

When Lafayette and Hamilton reached the general, Lafayette reached out and touched his arm, then recoiled. "It- It's cold." He mumbled to Hamilton.

Hamilton reached out. Lafayette was right, Washington's skin was alarmingly chilly and clammy to the touch. Tapping his arm, Hamilton could also feel it was hard, like stone.

"What did you do to him?!" Hamilton growled, turning on the cruel man.

"I used that spell on you too. Don't you remember?" The tutor raised a brow.

Hamilton opened his mouth to speak, but Laurens cut him off. "It doesn't matter whether we do or not. Let him go!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that." The tutor smiled, the tone of his voice sickening in its sweetness.

Hamilton clenched his fists. He glanced to the others, who looked just as angry as him.

"You can't, or won't?" Burr asked, sounding strangely calm, although Hamilton knew very well by the small signs he was showing that he was anything but.

The tutor just laughed and shook his head. "Oh, Burr, of course I mean won't," He yawned. "You always have to be a bit of a know-it-all, don't you?"

The frown line across Burr's forehead deepened slightly, but those were the only other signs to his anger.

Hamilton, glaring at the tutor, bent down and reached for his pistol, which was lying beside his feet. The tutor obviously noticed this, and immediately, all their pistols and Lafayette's and Washington's swords flew off the ground and up into the air. Then, to the horror of the five, they exploded in a confetti of red, blue, and white.

"I just thought I should make it fair." The tutor smirked to their dangerously angry expressions.

Mulligan, who obviously had had enough, ran at him with his fist raised, ready to punch him. Suddenly, Mulligan's eyes widened. His legs had somehow gotten stuck together, and they seemed to be connecting into one as they continued to thin themselves into an alarming width. This transformation proceeded to continue upwards, and barely a few seconds after, he had somehow ended up as a little ball of yarn, lying lifeless on the ground at the feet of the sorcerer.

"HERCULES!" Everyone screamed in horror, amidst the growing chuckles of the man as he kicked the ball of yarn aside. Lafayette ran forward to grab it as Burr, in a sudden, uncharacteristic burst of anger, charged at the sorcerer. The man merely laughed, and Burr, stumbling with a gasp and a thick thud, was suddenly nothing more than a small, dusty book.

"What the- what-" Hamilton gasped, grabbing the book that was once Burr from the ground and shaking it.

Lafayette now had the ball of yarn in his hands. "Hercules?" He whispered to it. It didn't respond.

Laurens growled, taking a step forward. Lafayette shook his head in alarm. "John, don't!" But Laurens didn't listen to him. He took off at a run, and when he swung his leg to kick, the tutor dodged him, and Laurens, losing his balance, fell onto his bottom.

His friends dropped the book and yarn and ran forward (Burr and Mulligan actually felt that). Laurens was growing a pale green as he shrank smaller and smaller. Hamilton grabbed his hand and ran farther away from the tutor, who was calmly standing in the same place he had first appeared, looking amused.

Hamilton could feel Laurens growing lighter, and when he finally turned to check on him, he yelped, dropping him.

Or what was once him. Now lying in Laurens' place was a small turtle, which was upside down and flailing its little legs as it desperately attempted to right itself.

"I told you not to do it!" Lafayette groaned as he picked him up from the ground. Shoving the turtle into Hamilton's surprised hands, Lafayette picked up the book and yarn and threw it furiously at the sorcerer, who only raised an eyebrow as he ducked and let them fall onto the ground with dull thuds. "That'll leave a mark." The tutor laughed, glancing at the seemingly lifeless (Though no doubt pained) items on the ground behind him.

At that moment, Lafayette had snuck up behind him and grabbed the man's wrist. The man merely giggled, and Lafayette's eyes went wide as his arm turned a strange color. It was like a light, pale brown, and his skin turned alarmingly crusty. Lafayette's eyes went wider when, through no logical explanation, his arm began to shrink into his body entirely.

Hamilton, who was trying to find a way to get the turtle to safety, finally gave up and ran to assist Lafayette, only to see a slightly large baguette fall to the floor.

"Lafayette!" Hamilton screamed, keeping a safe distance from the tutor.

The sorcerer smirked, picking the baguette that was once Lafayette up from the ground. "Shame he was on the ground. I would have liked to have a snack."

Hamilton clenched his fist, desperately trying to keep himself restrained. He did not want to turn into whatever the tutor wanted to turn him into, so he took a cautious step back.

The tutor looked up from examining the baguette. He laughed, tossing it to the ground behind him. "You didn't think I was just doing it to those who tried to attack me, did you?"

At that moment, Hamilton could feel himself shrinking. The sensation was extremely painful, like he was being forced into a small tube. He thought he felt his arms grow more arms, but they felt too light to be arms, and his legs stuck themselves together into a sharp point.

Then the quill floated to the ground, helpless as his body contorted into the inanimate object. He was now, he knew, powerless to whatever the tutor wanted to do with him.

The tutor smirked, cracking his knuckles. "Finally," he sighed in satisfaction, rolling his neck. "No more silly revolutions."

Washington felt dread overwhelm him as he stared at the quill, lying on the ground and ready to drift off in a breeze if there was one. The baguette, which he was pretty sure would get eaten by a stray dog, should one come into the camp (Which he was sure there would be). The book, which, once it got wet, would fall apart. The yarn, that a cat would probably tear apart. And the turtle, that would probably end up as the unfortunate pet of a careless boy, or worse, the tutor himself.

As Washington thought these things with slowly growing horror and mortification, he felt something strange happen. He thought he could feel his face again.

Suddenly, that feeling spread to the rest of his body. Down his torso, continuing to his legs, then to the tips of his toes. Suddenly, Washington was free. He wiggled his fingers. He could move again.

But he didn't. Not yet. He needed to get the tutor by surprise if he was going to defeat him.

He stiffened his body and made his legs as rigid as they looked earlier, staying in the same walking position as if his very life depended on it, which, if truth be told, it was.

The tutor bent down and picked up the quill—Hamilton, Washington corrected himself. He was positive that, even if they looked like mere items (And animal), they were still there. He didn't believe the tutor was powerful enough to turn them into those thoroughly.

At least, that's what he hoped.

The sorcerer continued to turn Hamilton around in his hands with an amused expression on his face, muttering, "It's actually quite intricately designed." Without taking his eye off the quill, he took an ink bottle out of his pocket and, (He could imagine an infuriated Hamilton yelling in protest) dipping the quill in, picked Burr up from the ground and (Washington tried not to imagine whether it hurt or not) opened him up to a random page and scratched a few words into it.

While the sorcerer was busy amusing himself, Washington slowly lowered his arm. He tiptoed to one of the frozen aides and reached for the pistol at his feet, whispering, "I'll get you out of this, don't worry."

Suddenly, the tutor paused. He looked to the side, and Washington froze.

Thankfully, the tutor was not looking at him, he was looking at the turtle, which had climbed on top of the baguette and was nudging it with his head (Washington could imagine how terrified Lafayette felt, and how worried Laurens was).

The tutor slammed the book closed with the quill still inside of it (Washington couldn't help wincing) and put it down, grabbing the ball of yarn and unrolling it a bit (Washington was positive Mulligan wanted to slap the tutor right now for invading his space). He tied the tip of the yarn around the poor turtle's neck and lifted the turtle by the rope to his face, swinging it back and forth (He could imagine poor Laurens wondering if this was how he was going to spend the rest of his days as he swung dizzily back and forth).

Washington swallowed and watched as the turtle continued to squirm in the air. Washington tried not to let his anger get to him, so he took a deep breath and stepped forward again. He just needed to get a good aim, then he could finally end this once and for all.

The tutor had stopped torturing the turtle now and put him down on top of the book, pocketing the yarn, obviously so the turtle couldn't get away. He picked up the baguette and sniffed it (He could imagine Lafayette was a little enraged by that). He made a face. "I never liked French food anyway." (Now he could imagine Lafayette laughing at him).

Washington raised the pistol and narrowed his eyes, ready to shoot the moment the tutor put the baguette down, for fear of accidentally missing and shooting it instead.

The tutor, who seemed to be enjoying himself, dropped the baguette to the floor, dusting his hands.

" _Now!_ " Washington's brain, screamed, and he pressed on the trigger.

Except his finger didn't move.

 _Noooo, not again!_ Washington thought in a groan as the spell took hold of his arm. He tried to take a step back so he could run, but his arm stayed in the air, frozen in place, as if it was stuck there.

The tutor turned with a grin on his face. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

He threw the ball of yarn out of his pocket and stepped over the other items. He clapped. "I really do like how you can break out of the spell so fast, and without my knowledge, too, but compassion can only get you so far."

Washington pulled at his arm, which really was frozen in the air. It wouldn't move, he was stuck.

"Turn them back." Washington demanded with a scowl.

The tutor laughed. "And why should I do that?"

Washington took a deep breath, thinking fast. "I'll.. I'll surrender."

Of course that was a lie. Too much depended on him, but the tutor didn't seem to notice it. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, then laughed. "But I don't want you to surrender. It's much more fun this way," He leaned in closer, "And, frankly, much more embarrassing for you and them." He cocked his head at the five on the ground as they continued to lie there, helpless to the world as they continued sitting there like a bunch of junk someone had thrown away. Except for the turtle, who was choking as he got strangled on the yarn.

"But they could die." Washington pleaded.

"Since when do I care? That's what I'm planning to let happen anyway, I mean, I don't think they can live much longer in that form, and the turtle is utterly powerless."

Washington growled.

The tutor just shook his head. "You care about them too much, Washington, and that caring heart of yours will be your downfall." He continued with a laugh, turning around and walking back to the five enchanted men on the ground.

Washington felt fear grip his heart like a knife. He couldn't take seeing them treated this way anymore. They'd gone through so much, especially that day, and now he wasn't even sure they'd get to become human ever again. He clenched his free fist in frustration.

Then his finger twitched.

Washington's eyes widened.

He glanced at the tutor, then he closed his eyes shut with sudden verdict as he forced all his thoughts onto the five, his wife, and his aides. He let his fatherly heart clench in pain as he thought of the five being tortured mercilessly. He allowed the worry for his wife to rise to a pitch he normally never let worry go, and he thought of all his soldiers who were depending on him to save them.

His finger moved.

Washington opened his eyes and broke into a smirk as he called out. "Hey!"

The tutor turned to him with a bored expression expectantly.

"Compassion, I believe," Washington smiled, "Can never go wrong, if only you can allow your heart to feel it."

The man tilted his head, confused. Suddenly, a loud bang sounded throughout the air, and the tutor's eyes widened in alarm.

He paled, clutching at his chest, which was turning an alarming shade of bright red. He stared at Washington. "How-?"

"It's just like I said," Washington smirked, massaging his now free arm. "Compassion is a powerful thing."

The man glared as he fell to his knees. Then, with a shuddering gasp, fell flat onto his face.

Washington ran forward with his pistol raised, ready to shoot again. He reached his foot out to nudge him, but before he could, the tutor began to evaporate into a pile of black dust.

Washington put his hand over his mouth and nose and gagged in disgust.

Around him, Washington heard all his aides and soldiers collapse to the ground gratefully with weak whoops of joy. But he wasn't focusing on them.

He stared at the book, quill, ball of yarn, baguette, and turtle in desperation. They had to come back. They simply had to.

He swallowed and knelt down as he continued to stare at them, desperately hoping and praying for God to save them.

Yet they didn't move. Even the turtle, who was hiding in its shell, refusing to show itself to Washington and the world.

As the seconds ticked by, and they remained as lifeless as the tutor had made them to be, Washington felt disbelief and grief fill his heart. _No..._

Washington felt his throat go tight, signaling the tears. He thought that he already had cried all his tears out that day, but apparently he had much more tears to spare.

He looked down, taking off his hat and holding it to his chest. _I failed them._ He thought as a tear escaped the corner of his eye.

Martha came running across the field. All the men made way for her quickly as she trotted past them, hurrying to her heartbroken husband.

"You did it." She whispered, taking his hand.

Washington shook his head. "Yet I couldn't save them." His voice cracked as he nodded sorrowfully at the turtle and other lifeless items on the ground.

Martha looked at him like he was mad, but put a comforting hand on his shoulder anyway and whispered. "I know you tried your best."

Washington let out a shaky breath and covered his eyes with his hand.

Suddenly, cutting clear through the mournful and confused air, there was a cough.

Washington opened his eyes and looked down sharply. The turtle was out of its shell, and, to the amazement of everyone around them, it coughed again, then gagged violently. It cried out, "I can't breathe!"

Before Washington could move to assist it, he suddenly started to grow. The string around its neck turned into an arm as the yarn started to thicken.

The baguette shivered, then began to sprout arms and legs.

The book shuddered violently, and the quill inside of it squirmed.

Washington slid backwards on his bottom, and, immediately after, like an explosion, there sat five young men, looking incredibly flustered, embarrassed, and a little sore. But otherwise, they were fine.

Laurens gasped and tugged at the arm holding him in a headlock. "Let. Me. Go!" He gasped.

Mulligan let him go, looking surprised, then he immediately wrapped his arm around Laurens and squeezed affectionately.

Lafayette was sneezing bread crumbs as he sat on the ground. He shook his hands, and more bread crumbs fell to the ground, and he was sitting in a small pile of even more crumbs. He blushed, then coughed, " _Ne faites pas attention à ces miettes de pain_." He mumbled. He sneezed, and more bread crumbs came out of his nose.

A scuffling noise made Washington pause his chuckling as he turned to see Hamilton and Burr, who were struggling with Burr's coat. Hamilton was somehow stuck inside it, his back against Burr's as they tried to get out. Washington wondered how they could have gotten in such a state. Then he remembered how the tutor had placed the quill inside of the book, and he bit his lip as he tried not to laugh at the ridiculous sight.

Their friends, however, did not have his restraint. They burst out laughing, which caused Lafayette to choke on several more bread crumbs coming out of his mouth.

Hamilton scowled as the laughter spread around the other aides. He sneezed, causing him and Burr to fall again. Small feathers flew out of his nose as he sneezed again.

After a few more rounds of laughter, Burr and Hamilton were both extremely red in the face. Washington, taking control of the bubble of laughter threatening to burst out of his mouth again, took the liberty of helping them out of Burr's coat. It took several tries and several violent tugs, but finally, Hamilton was able to slip out with a gasp of relief, shuddering in disgust. Seeing Burr properly, Washington could see several random, yet quite rude words scribbled across Burr's face, arms, and legs in the tutor's handwriting, and Burr blushed furiously as the four burst out laughing again.

Hamilton, particularly, obviously thought this was hilarious. Burr elbowed him in irritation, and several more feathers from Hamilton fell to the floor. He glanced down at his feet, which were covered in ink, and Hamilton flushed. "Let's never speak of this again."

Laurens, Mulligan, Lafayette, and Burr nodded vigorously in agreement, and Washington laughed. "I have no problem with that whatsoever."


End file.
